Tainting the Roses Red
by Child of the Ashes
Summary: Ichigo knew he could be thick headed. He almost always learned things the hard way, but about this, he couldn't be making mistakes. His hollow was playing a dangerous game, one that somehow involved Inoue.
1. Chapter 1  Prologue

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Summary: Ichigo knew he could be thick headed. He almost always learned things the hard way, but about this, he couldn't be making mistakes. His hollow was playing a dangerous game, one that somehow involved Inoue.

Warning: This story contains profanity, heavy violence, and sexual situations in later chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Authorial Notice: **

**This is my very first fanfic. As it is, the beginning is a bit rough, so please excuse my inexperience :) **

Chapter One

Orihime sighed, leaning against the cold cement barrier that ran along the river and divided the park. A lightning bug landed beside her and she smiled as it winked and flashed its light before taking off again.

For late spring, it was unseasonably chilly and she was amazed that they were out at all. Still, considering that the temperature kept falling, it was surprising that she was. Orihime wrinkled her nose. How could she have just gone home after a story like that? Of course, she would come.

The first star on the night of the new moon… Even the words sounded magical. Although, just because Tatsuki had told her about it, didn't mean she would be any more understanding if she found out Orihime had come alone.

She shivered, glancing over her shoulder and drawing her coat closer before remembered she hadn't worn one. Sighing, Orihime returned her gaze to the horizon. It would be any minute now. She could already see the empty space in the sky where the moon should have been.

Then she saw it. Bouncing on her feet, she clasped her hands and closed her eyes, thinking her wish as hard as she could. With a smile, she cracked an eye and just for good measure, whispered her wish into the night, letting the breeze catch it and carry her secret where it would.

()()()

Watching the girl from the shadows, the creature stirred, licking its lips.

She looked absolutely delicious with her face turned up to the sky and the wind blowing her strange flame colored hair around her. And the innocence, even from here it was obvious, glaring like a candle in a dark room. Nothing flavored a meal like naivety.

It waited, gaze unwavering and claws twitching. She was perfect.

()()()

Orihime smiled, rubbing her arms and looking over the water. She needed to get back to her homework, but the night was so peaceful, she wanted to make the moment last. And it was wonderfully quiet, like the world had stopped moving.

Although…

Orihime took a step back and turned, looking around as chills sprang up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

It was _really_ quiet. Unnaturally so.

Awareness flashed through her, tripping nerve endings and raising gooseflesh on her arms. Something was wrong. On the edge of her consciousness, she could feel it lurking. Reaching out with her senses, Orihime spun around.

Where is it? Where—

There.

A few yards away, under a small hedge, a pair of eyes set watching her. She drew in a startled breath, readying herself for an attack that never came. Orihime frowned, focusing on the small amount of energy coming from the bushes. It was definitely _not_ human, but it didn't really feel like the twisted riatsu of a hollow, either.

"Hello?"

As soon as the word left her mouth, the eyes winked out and were gone. Orihime took a step back, bumping into the half wall behind her. She stared at the hedges for a few seconds, not sure what to make of it, before her thoughts were interrupted by a new wave of heavy, dark energy.

This time there was no doubt. A fierce, trumpeting roar sounded from what must have been several blocks away. She glanced back once more before deciding on the larger threat as another blast of evil spiritual pressure lit up her senses.

She turned and broke into a dead run.

Orihime didn't even need to try finding the hollow as she sped out through the park. It was making a terrible racket. Instead, she searched for Rukia. She had patrol tonight, didn't she?

The small shinigami wasn't anywhere close by and worry made Orihime increase her pace. Hoping her friend was alright, she ran into the night, forgetting all about suspicious auras and watchful crimson eyes.

()()()

**A/N **

**Alright, so what do you think? Like it, hate it? Let me know if I should continue this. Also, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Just make sure you're gentle with me…it's my first time…err, fic.**


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to none other than the fantastically brilliant Kubo Tite, who is absolutely killing me with anticipation for the next manga chapter…

* * *

Chapter two

Ichigo stalked down the city sidewalk, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black and red jacket. Yuzu needed eggs for dinner. Again.

He couldn't figure it out. Hadn't he just gotten eggs last night? So, why, less than twenty four hours later, was he freezing his butt off to make the same trip? If it turned out his stupid old man was making protein shakes again, he was going to kill the bastard.

A shudder worked its way down his spine.

The _last_ time his dad had suggested that he 'man up', as he had so inconspicuously put it, Ichigo had awoken at an ungodly hour only to find a funnel lodged into his esophagus, right before his father dumped a quart of raw eggs down his throat, not to mention something that tasted suspiciously like grass.

After a few times of smashing the bastard's face into the hardwood, he had begun insisting that it was only wheatgrass, and therefore, a health food.

Ichigo scowled. _Stupid old man…_

A distant roar broke him out of his thoughts, echoing off the buildings, rattling glass, and at the same time making its origin hard to distinguish.

Damn it, Rukia.

She was supposed to be taking care of this shit tonight.

He looked around for a place to dump his body, peeking down a darkened alley. Yeah, that's just what he needed right now, for some sick freak to find him unconscious and steal his kidneys. He frowned, turning. Why was it that any time he actually needed that little stuffed pervert Kon, he was never around?

Another roar drew his attention back to the problem. He needed to find a place. Now.

A flashing sign across the street caught his attention and he arched an eyebrow_…mattress sale, huh?_ _That might work._

A couple minutes later, he ducked out of the furniture store and took off, wondering why the universe was such an unfair place, that even one night off seemed like too much to ask.

The ground below his feet quaked and shuttered.

Damn it, he was going to be late. There was no telling what kind of chaos it had managed to wreak by now.

Ichigo hit the corner and made a hard right, and there it was. Twice as big as a city bus, stomping around on four massive flat feet. A single huge horn protruded from the center of its ugly mask and a long tail full of menacing spikes decorated its hind end. It seemed to be vaguely animalistic and Ichigo thought that he might have recognized the form, but being that it was a hollow, the effect was lost.

It seemed mad, though, trampling around in a circle, stamping and pawing, trying to smash something below it on the ground.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the dust and small chunks of rubble, when he felt his other self give a violent surge against the walls of his mind. It was so abrupt and unexpected that he stumbled, feeling the impact all the way down to his toes.

_What the hell?_

Under his skin, he could still feel it scratching, trying to get his attention.

Then he saw it.

Through a small break in the cloud of dust, a swirl of auburn hair and a flash of golden light. His gut clenched, even as his hand reached for Zangetsu.

* * *

Orihime felt that all things considered, she was doing pretty well. She was out-sized and out-matched, but still, she was alive, and in her book that counted for something.

The hollow pounded against her shield and even though her arms shook with the effort, it held firm. Of course in retrospect, Orihime was willing to admit that she had brought this on herself, because having Tzubaki attack like that had turned out to be a really awful idea, after all.

The hollow was much faster than it looked and the attack that should have pierced its face, arrived at the exact moment it had decided to spin around. Orihime had made a perfect bull's-eye, just not the one she had been hoping for.

In the end, she had only succeeded in earning herself one very pissed off Tzubaki and the hollow had earned itself a poke in the rear. _And_ if the angry thrashing was any kind of hint, it had either been incredibly painful or incredibly demeaning.

Probably both, she thought, biting at her lip.

Orihime shielded herself in the most apologetic way she could muster. She couldn't blame it for being in such a terrible mood. If she had aimed correctly, it would have been on its way to Soul Society by now or wherever they went. She pouted as the hollow just seemed to be getting increasingly incensed. Tzubaki zoomed back and forth around its head, screaming obscenities randomly directed at both it and Orihime.

Breathing in the dust that was being thrown up by the hollow's feet, she barely managed to raise her shield in time through a fit of violent coughing. And that's when she saw it. Out of the corner of her eye. A viciously spiked tail coming at her sideways at an incredible speed. Her mind froze and all she could do was stare open-mouthed, waiting to be impaled on painful looking spikes.

Her eyes snapped shut, instinctively blocking out the sight of her own death.

She had read once that it was a survival mechanism, like how your body could sometimes block out the pain of a severe wound. She wished her body would do that now. Her last thought was that she must be hysterical to be thinking of such mundane things, while death loomed in front of her like the open mouth of a grave.

She felt disconnected as it slammed into her side, her breath hissing out of her lungs with the force of the impact. But even though it was forceful, it didn't hurt. The world spun and flipped in on its self in a way that made her terribly dizzy, before everything started to fall away.

She felt weightless; lighter than air. It was almost nice, she was all tingly, like energy was buzzing all around her. Then as quickly as it had begun, the weightless, flying sensation stopped and heavy warmth settled all over her.

She tried to bask in the glowing after effects of her death, but something else was noisily wiggling its way to the surface of her mind, clamoring for attention. And the harder it tried, the more she was certain that it was something important, but she was so comfortable now that she wasn't sure she even _wanted_ to know. Instead she relaxed deeper, trying to concentrate on the heat that was washing over her in waves.

But her mind had long sense developed a will of its own, and it was quick to point out that the warmth only happened to be located on one side of her body, and the tingly electric feelings from earlier were radiating out from only a few strategic places.

Feeling a little betrayed, she decided to give in and find out what her mind was going on about. She cracked open one eye before blinking them both open and for a split second, Orihime's entire world consisted of brown eyes.

Through the silence of her heart stopping, she thought she could hear her mind laugh.

Mahogany eyes, with the smallest flecks of amber.

They regarded her with a gaze so focused that her first instinct was to shy away. Instead, she panned back to take in the perfect planes of his face, his tense brow, and the hard set of his mouth, before returning to his eyes.

It wouldn't have surprised Orihime at all if her version of heaven was made up entirely of Ichigo's eyes. No matter what he was feeling, she could always see it there.

She loved it when he laughed, because they went all soft and warm like honey. She loved it when he would read something he liked, because then they turned all deep and calm and introspective. She even loved it when they glittered like newly burnished copper, even though it meant he was going to make someone bleed.

But just now…they were scaring her a little.

She thought that she could make out a dark light behind the intense look of concern. It felt like something was looking out at her. She shook her head a bit to try to dislodge her thoughts and when she looked back, it was gone.

She wondered if he had been aware of it in the first place.

Then the moment broke, and he asked her if she was alright before depositing her on her own feet at her insistent nod.

"I thought I was dead." She said, before she could think better about it.

He closed his eyes, making a small noise in the back of his throat. She watched the wind ruffle his hair and whip the black and white heavy silk of his Shihakushou around his lean frame.

She swallowed, noticing that her mouth had gone dry.

**A/N Hey, look at that…another chapter. **

**Thanks so much for reading! **

**Child of the Ashes**


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Claimer: Of course I own them…duh.

**Authorial Notice:**

**Thank you so, so much for all the fantastic reviews. Each one really does mean a lot. I can't tell you how awesome it is to know exactly what you liked in the story, especially those of you that tell me what you think about every chapter. It helps me to know when I hit the mark and when things fell short, that way I can focus on improving. **

**Thank you!**

* * *

Chapter Three

Ichigo watched as the beast swept its tail straight toward Orihime from the side.

Even as he poured out all of his speed, he wondered if he would make it in time. At the last second, he plowed into her side, gathering his feet under him and leaping over the oncoming tail.

A mail drop close to where she had been standing exploded, scattering papers and letters like confetti. The hollow roared at him, but he didn't pay attention as he lept up and away, springing off of a parked car.

He could take care of it after he made sure Inoue was uninjured. And if she wasn't, well, that would be good to know, too. Then, he could be sure to kill it _that much deader._

After a series of quick leaps, he was left standing on top of the closest building, looking down at the bundle of girl in his arms. He began a mental catalog of her parts to make sure she wasn't missing anything, annoyed that the segment of his brain listing body parts sounded obnoxiously like his father.

The hollow thrashed below, roaring and pounding at the pavement.

Satisfied that everything was at least attached, Ichigo looked at her again. Her lashes lay against the smooth skin of her cheeks. She didn't stir and he wondered if slamming into her like that had knocked her unconscious. A little shard of worry lodged in his brain, before he frowned.

She might look delicate, but he had seen her take worse spills down the school steps.

He crouched down, letting her weight rest on his thighs and using his hands to examine her. On her left arm was a substantial gash, through which her blood flowed freely down her arm and dripped from her fingertips. Her slight breaths puffed her chest in and out.

She looked unspeakably breakable.

It dawned on him, that she really had been only a hair's-breadth away from death. That pathetic little hollow that he could have ripped apart blindfolded, had almost taken her away. The gravity of that thought settled down into his gut like a barbed lead weight.

Ichigo felt a wave of hot anger wash over him, his vision speckling into shades of black. The hands holding her tightened without his consent.

He snapped back to the moment at a rustling in his arms. She was looking up at him wide-eyed and disconcerted.

Damn, he had scared her.

Pushing back his dark thoughts, he tried to soften his look. She blinked at him and he realized she was still in his lap. He straightened, lifting her back to her feet.

"Are you ok, Inuoe?

She blinked and said exactly what he was thinking. "I thought I was dead."

Ichigo closed his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, before he realized he had no idea what was going to come out. He snapped it shut before he could embarrass himself, resulting in an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat.

_Smooth…_

She was looking at him.

"Huh?" He said intelligently.

She shook her head, still looking dazed.

He _really_ hoped she didn't have some sort of head injury. Tatsuki would annihilate him…

"You're not dead." He tried again, not sure if it was more for his peace of mind or hers. "And except for your arm, you're fine…I think." He glanced back at her head.

"Oh…well, that's great then, I guess!" Now that she indisputably _was not_ dead, her natural cheer seemed to be kicking in.

Ichigo let out a breath, then remembered something.

"Hey, look, I'm gonna go kill that thing. You just stay right here. It'll only take a second." He gestured down while he was talking and Orihime took it literally, jumping to the spot his finger pointed at. His lip twitched and his brow relaxed, before he turned around and jumped off the roof.

A split second later, Orihime heard a crash from below, then a crunch that turned her stomach, followed by a squeal that lasted way longer than it should have, before finally being cut silent. She held her breath and crept toward the edge, not sure she wanted to see. Inching closer, she peeked over the edge right as Ichigo landed in a swirl of black and white.

Picking up the conversation without a hitch, he wrapped Zangetsu while he talked.

"So you want my dad to take a look at that arm?"

She tilted her head to the side. "My arm…?"

Maybe, she hadn't heard him right.

She thought he had said arm, but he had waved the hand wrapping his sword while he talked, indicating her head. It was impressive really, she was pretty sure if she had tried to do that, she would have cut something off.

"That's alright, it doesn't even hurt. Which, I guess is a little surprising…Oh, I must be in shock." She prattled on a bit too cheerfully, considering what she had just said.

"Really? You sure…?"

So she did have a head injury, after all.

"Oh, yes." She scrunched her nose in concentration, trying to remember the article she had read.

Ichigo leaned forward, as though he would be able to see it if he looked hard enough or tilted his head a certain way.

"You see…" She continued, "there were these _people_, and they were _fighting_, and they got _shot_…" He listened closely, trying to follow her rapid speech. She imitated a shooter and someone getting shot complete with blood splattering, and Ichigo thought it was actually a pretty good impression, despite its graphic content.

It was sometime around when she started going on about JKF and conspiracy theories, he realized that despite his good intentions, he was hopelessly lost.

He blinked, trying to remember how they had gotten on this topic in the first place, when he noticed her poke at her gash with a finger, right where the cut was deepest. She managed to look curious and clinical at the same time.

"How cool." She poked at the wound successfully covering her finger in blood.

Ichigo felt nauseous. There was something about seeing a girl bleed that didn't set right.

_Wait a minute_…

"Inuoe…it's not cool, you're bleeding! That's a really bad cut—" He made a grab for her poking finger, stopping the somewhat mesmerizing action. It was sticky red with blood. "You could have lost your arm."

"Wow, you really think so?" She crossed her arms and propped her chin up on the other finger, seeming to contemplate that.

Ichigo wondered at what point he had begun gaping at her like a fish.

He jumped when she slammed a fist into her open palm.

"Then it sure was lucky for me that Kurosaki-kun was here to save me." She said, turning a beaming smile his direction.

Ichigo felt his resolve to set her straight wobble haphazardly, before collapsing completely. He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure how to handle her overpowering praise.

"Uh, well…Whatever. If you think it'll be fine…" He tried to reclaim his scowl.

A booming voice turned their attention from the conversation. "Ichigo…?"


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: Does anything more_ really_ need to be said?

* * *

Chapter Four

Ichigo walked over to the lip of the roof to see Chad standing below. "Hey, Chad. What are you doing here?"

"Inuoe." Came the monosyllabic response.

Ichigo couldn't even make out his friends eyes under the sheepdog bangs that made up the top half of his face, but he got the message. Chad must have sensed the panic in Inoue's spiritual pressure and ever faithful, the Mexican giant had come running.

"She's up here with me. She's fine." He called back.

"Hi, Sado-kun!"

Orihime bounded over to the side to get a better view and nearly toppled over the side. Only some quick reflexes on Ichigo's part saved her from plunging strait to the bottom. He flashed a hand out and grabbed her waistband letting her yoyo over the side for a second before hauling her back. Reasonably sure he had just had a small series of heart attacks. Not that she had ever even noticed she was hanging over empty air.

"And there's Ishida-kun!" She waved. "Oh, he's all wet…"

Ichigo sighed and reached down and around Orihime, tossing her over his shoulder before she could object or worse… insist that she was too fat. He took a step over the edge and lept to the ground. He tried not to smile when she gasped and fisted her hands into the cloth at his back. As soon as they touched down, he sat her on her feet and looked up to see Uryu execute a sophisticated eye roll.

He cocked a brow.

There was no way in hell he could let that pass.

"Man, Ishida. You look like shit."

The black haired quincy leveled a glare his way. The effect somewhat nullified by the fact that he looked more like a sodden, half-drowned rat, than the last member of a proud race of poltergeist hunting archers. Not to mention, Ichigo was pretty sure he couldn't even see through his fogged up glasses.

"If you must know…" He replied, removing his glasses to wipe them on a handkerchief he produced from god-knows-where. "I was accosted by a burst water pipe on my way to assist Inuoe-san."

_Accosted…? _He looked half drowned. And who just used words like accosted, anyways?

The girl in question stepped forward, ready to apologize for any trouble she had caused. But after making eye contact, she suddenly closed her mouth and put a hand over it. She dropped it again.

Orihime scrunched her brow and looked at Uryu with determination, causing him to shift awkwardly in anticipation. Finally, with her lips trembling, she lowered her head to her chest blocking the view of her face completely.

She wasn't going to cry, was she?

Uryu stepped forward launching into a speech about how it wasn't her fault that the pipe had burst, and she really needn't worry so much about his welfare and for that matter, he was pretty sure that if Ichigo could be trusted to handle these things properly—

A very distinct and ladylike snort brought him up short. Her hand flew up to her mouth and her shoulders began to shake.

Uryu blinked.

Unable to hold back any longer, Orihime erupted into a fit of giggles. Uryu stared at her in utter shock. Ichigo grinned, delighted at the thought of Uryu's masculinity being compromised and even Chad seemed to be sporting a suspicious looking lip twitch.

Uryu arched one delicate eyebrow, trying to maintain as much of his dignity as possible in the face of adversity. He counted to ten.

Orihime had almost crawled behind Ichigo, causing the bedraggled quincy to, once again, wonder just _what_ was between those two. When questioned, together or separately, both of the strawberry haired teens denied any existence of a relationship other than friends.

But they had certainly become rather chummy in his opinion.

He narrowed his eyes at Ichigo.

Certainly, he was the one to blame. Everyone already knew of Orihime's epic crush on the other wise clueless boy, however Ichigo, as usual, was oblivious to even the most apparent acts of feminine body language.

After all, hadn't he _just_ witnessed the ignorant fool carrying Orihime slung over his shoulder, like some barbarian with a fresh kill, _still_ managing to look prouder than a strutting peacock? And the worst part of the whole mess was that Ichigo didn't even seem to be awareof how he acted towards the girl. That, in the Quincy's eyes, made the deed all the more cruel, if not infinitely more dangerous.

For Orihime at least…

It wasn't as if the dark haired boy had feelings for the girl, as such, but he had a great deal of respect for her, and the notion of such an innocent heart being so carelessly pushed into harm's way, irked him quite a bit.

"You could have changed, Idiot."

"For your information," Came Uryu's cold reply, "Inoue seemed to be in some sort of distress. Which you would know, if you were even slightly competent at sensing riatsu."

Ichigo opened his mouth for a biting reply to let the jerk know exactly _who _had saved Inoue, when Rukia came charging up at full speed sliding to a stop between them. She doubled over with her hands on her knees, panting.

"Kuchiki-san," Orihime leaned forward, rubbing her friends back. "Are you ok?"

"Oi, stupid midget. Just where the hell have you been?" Ichigo snapped, not even a little fooled by her dramatic act.

"I…I...had….an…issue…" She puffed out between breaths.

He was going to ask her exactly what _kind_ of issue, when she frowned and produced her Soul Society issue pager.

"This dumb thing is acting up again." She smacked it against her hand, without a trace of her earlier fatigue.

_How convenient…_

"It was beeping all over the place, I ended up all over town. The train station, old Scurry building, even up by the school. And I will have you know" She rounded on him. "that I don't appreciate what you are implying…." She trailed off blinking huge violet eyes, glancing around to every face before returning to Uryu.

She shuffled her feet.

"Umm…Ishida?" She shifted some more trying not to look at him directly. "Has your suit…always been so" She gestured. "tight?"

His eyebrow twitched in time to the small blue vein on his forehead. He used a single refined finger to push his glasses further up his nose, reflecting streetlight and effectively hiding his expression.

"It's dry clean only." He said by way of clarification, and although his voice started out low, somewhere in the middle it began rising in pitch until it reached the falsetto of a prepubescent boy.

"Ok." Rukia said, trying to look anywhere else but…down. Which was fast becoming the group staple, now that attention had been called to the fact that the suit had become rather indecent.

Uryu cleared his throat.

"Since Inoue seems to be out of mortal peril, I believe I will be on my way." And with that, he began to hobble off with more dignity than should have been possible.

"Hmm" Chad grunted his goodbye, walking in the general direction of his house.

"Bye, guys." Orihime waved them off. "Sorry, Ishida-kun, thanks for the help."

"What a retard." Ichigo crossed his arms, watching the last glimpses of a white cape flutter around a corner. "Speaking of which…" he turned toward Rukia. "When are you going to replace that stupid thing?" He spared a glance for the spastic pager.

"N-no way!" She cried, hiding it safely behind her back. "This is the first thing I got in the human world, and I've had it forever, and it would be working perfectly fine if that sneaky shop keeper would ever fix it right!"

For his part, Ichigo suspected that the whole situation actually had a lot more to do with the Chappy face on the cover, which the Soul Society's Women's Association had discontinued. They had replaced it with a kitten that was supposed to be more feminine. He just found it creepy.

Still, Rukia guarded her Chappy treasures with a zealousness that was admirable, if still slightly misguided.

The pager started vibrating in her hand before a high pitched beeping echoed out.

"Whatever," Ichigo said, losing interest in an unwinnable debate. "I've got to go get my body before someone calls an ambulance again. I can drop off Inoue. It's on the way."

"Yeah, that's fine…" She flipped open her busted pager. "All the way over there…?" She sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Inoue."

Orihime flashed a dazzling smile. "Ok, see you tomorrow. Be careful."

Rukia waved a vague hand over one shoulder as she walked away.

"You ready?" He looked over at the still smiling girl, realizing for the first time what she was wearing. "Aren't you cold?"

"Ah, maybe a little..." She looked down at herself. "You know, I'm sure I'll be able to make it home by myself, you don't have to go to any trouble. Besides, it's only a few blocks."

Ichigo clenched his jaw.

_What was he supposed to say to that?_

He knew it made more sense to go their separate ways. It would probably even save her some time.

But, if he was being honest with himself, the fact that she really almost died had still been hounding him. It turned into an annoying little buzz in the back of his mind, whispering ugly thoughts about what he might have found if he had been even a few seconds later.

He shut his eyes tightly, waylaid by the image of his dead mother lying face down in a pool of her own blood.

He pushed the image back viciously.

Opening his eyes he looked at her, needing to see her physically alive and safe. For just a little longer, just until the thoughts passed, he would let himself be weak.

He would walk her home. He would see that she got there safe. And there was nothing wrong with that. He _should_ be doing this. It was the _gentlemanly_ thing to do. Besides, what if she was attacked again on the way home, what would she do?

It wasn't like Orihime would ever kill to protect herself.

_No, not for herself… _

He shook his head, slamming the door on that memory. This wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

"Kurosaki-kun…?"

He looked down at the subject of his thoughts. He must have spaced out.

"Don't worry about it, like I said, it's on the way. Besides…" He said at her doubtful look. "You've lost a lot of blood. Are you sure you don't want my dad to fix you up?"

"It really is fine and I can heal it first thing once I get home. Really, I'm tough as nails!" She punched the air while performing a cute little hop kick that was probably supposed to be intimidating.

He glanced at the small puddle of blood forming down her side.

"I'm walking you home."

* * *

**A/N**

**Please review! Yeah, that doesn't sound desperate or anything…**


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: (Insert standard disclaiming BS)

* * *

Chapter Five

They had picked up his body from the shop and started their walk to Orihime's apartment, before Ichigo remembered the eggs. Now, they stood looking at a paper sign through the glass of the darkened store.

"You can always have some of my eggs." Orihime offered.

"That's ok. I left about two hours ago, so I'm sure Yuzu already figured something out." He answered before they turned, making their way toward her home.

They walked in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

Orihime glanced up at Ichigo through her lashes. His brow was wrinkled in concentration. He was obviously a million miles away.

She smiled.

Kurosaki-kun was a serious person. Her eyes traced the angles of his face, sliding down his jaw to his neck where it disappeared into his jacket. She looked back to the sidewalk, fighting back the hoard of butterflies that had decided to take flight in her belly. She swallowed trying to distract herself.

_Yup, he was verrry serious…_

She shivered, rubbing her arms. This was much less exciting than she had imagined it to be. Her version of this fantasy usually involved tear-jerking confessions of love, a magical first kiss, a Vegas wedding and _sometimes_ attempted world domination by tyrannical robot overlords.

Sighing, she scooted closer to the boy beside her and his furnace like heat. That would be the best…They could be super alien fighting secret government agents. Partners! They would take down the Nazi's and the KGB and they would always come through to save the world at the very last second.

And of course, they would fall madly in love.

She wiggled closer to the warmness beside her. _That would be just about perfect…_

It occurred to Orihime, that while she had been lost in thought, she had also begun to invade Ichigo's personal space. She stiffened, nervous again.

It seemed like the proper thing to do would be to extricate herself from his rib cage, but this was actually a very complicated situation. What if he hadn't realized how awkwardly close they were? Surely any sudden movement would alert him to the fact. And if he had noticed, she couldn't pull away too quickly… he might think she didn't want to touch him!

She bit her lip and scrunched her nose. Maybe he wouldn't notice if she just moved very, very slowly.

* * *

Ichigo mentally cursed.

Just what the hell was that ungodly bastard trying to pull this time?

He suppressed an aggravated sigh, thoughts turning dark as he contemplated his hollow.

He had felt it moving earlier, rummaging around in the shadowy parts of his soul. It was something that lived inside the deepest darkest places, places he would much rather leave unexplored and unexamined, because sometimes, if he looked too closely, he could see himself looking back. It was _unnerving_.

It had stirred inside him earlier when Inoue had been in danger and now it was refusing to be pushed back down. It always did.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled.

_Damn it..._

He hadn't realized it had gotten that close to the surface. It was getting better at concealing its motives. What else had it been up to that he hadn't noticed? This was unacceptable. He needed to have better control, especially now.

His scowl darkened. Ichigo knew he could be thick headed. He almost always learned things the hard way, but about _this_ he couldn't be making mistakes. He wasn't going to have that luxury. It had taken all the events of Hueco Mundo, the Winter War and half a dozen other incidents since, but he had finally gotten the message. His hollow was playing a dangerous game, one that somehow involved Inoue.

He glanced down at her. She had matured a lot since their freshman year, mentally and physically. She had grown her bangs out; they no longer hung over her eyes, instead she swept them off to the side held back by her cherished hair clips. Her hair that had once been perfectly straight was now so long that it curled slightly at the ends. Running all the way past her lower back; it draped over her shoulders and down her front. Her lashes had darkened and grown so full that she looked like she was wearing makeup, even though Tatsuki insisted she only used light powder and lip gloss. He had been confused about that at first; not sure what else a girl would have to wear. Tatsuki had just rolled her eyes and called him stupid.

Even her last traces of baby fat had left, thinning out her hips and face. She was beautiful, it wasn't like he didn't notice. He was a seventeen year old guy. He noticed. But she was his friend, a _good friend_ and it was a very _complicated_ situation.

Ichigo frowned. He knew she cared about him, but it was _Inoue_, she cared about everyone. All he had to offer was a psychopathic hollow and a bad attitude. _And_ she shouldn't have to _settle_. It would be so… _her_ to go out with someone just to avoid hurting their feelings.

After all, there had been more than once he'd had to set a guy straight about what was acceptable behavior where Inoue was concerned. The way they looked at her, their whispered comments in the hallways, all of it pissed him off.

His skin itched, feeling tight and constricting.

He ignored it.

None of them knew her as a person. None of them knew that she liked to eat foods that started with the same letter as that day of the week, or that she was secretly afraid of bunnies and put on a brave face for Rukia's sake. They didn't know that she cried sometimes when she saw the sunset or that she was afraid she would always be alone.

He stole another look at her, noticing that she had pressed herself so close to his side that they might grow an attachment on one side.

She was probably cold. Ichigo had offered her his jacket, but she had refused, saying she didn't want to get blood on it. Like he cared about something like that. But he hadn't pressed, because even if he had, even though she knew he didn't care, she would still refuse.

That was just who Inoue was, good natured and pure as sunlight, like a fairytale princess from a storybook. And he would personally see to anyone that wanted to take _advantage_ of that…

His fingers twitched convulsively.

Ichigo looked up to see Orihime standing in front of him. Her mouth was moving.

He blinked and shook himself.

"Kurosaki-kun…?" She looked worried. "Are you alright?"

She had been shaking his arm, but when he looked at her she snatched her hand back.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He noticed his voice sounded off.

He really needed to get out of here. Like, _now._

"It's just that, we've been standing here for a while…" She said gently.

He looked up to see her apartment. _When did that get there?_

"You need me to walk you up?" he asked.

_Please say no…just say no…_

She shook her head.

"Oh, okay, then. See you tomorrow, Inoue."

* * *

Orihime stood still for several minutes, even after she couldn't see him through the inky dark of night. She had forgotten to say goodbye. She couldn't remember the last time she had done that.

It had been his eyes.

They had been positively burning. They had shown with an inner light that had stilled her breath. She pulled cold air back into her lungs and released it again. She hoped he hadn't seen her fear. He had been holding back, trying to act normal for her sake, but he _hadn't_ been normal.

Orihime turned and made her way up the stairs. She had seen those eyes before. It had been over two years, but she knew it was something she would never forget.

The darkened spiritual pressure, she was used to, they all were by now. It would just come over him sometimes. They knew what it was, even if they didn't dare speak about it, not even to each other.

This was different. She knew it without being sure exactly _how_ she knew it. Sometimes she would see a spark, or a flicker, something in his eyes that just seemed out of sync with the rest of him.

But tonight?

She hadn't known _who_ she was looking at. Those were_ not_ Ichigo's eyes.

She closed her apartment door behind her and then fell back against it, pressing her fingertips to her eyes, as if that would block out the images behind them.

It wasn't something she allowed herself to think about often…

The inner turmoil those memories caused wasn't something she was skilled at dealing with. These were things best forgotten. Memories that should have been left where she had found them, left in that barren land that was filled with sand and shadows and the empty creatures that lived there. They weren't meant to be handled out in the open, not so close that she could pick them up and turn them over. Not so close that they cut.

She took a shaking breath and slid to the floor, letting the silent sobs rack her body.

That thing_ terrified _her_…_

The thing that lived inside of the boy that she loved. He didn't _deserve_ it. He had sacrificed _everything_ for his friends. He had picked up a sword he hadn't wanted. He had grown stronger when that sword alone wasn't enough. He had fought and killed and even died, in a place where strength and power was everything. He had gone to the equivalent of hell and back to bring her home.

And his reward for all of that?

He had become the dwelling place of a monster. Resigned to forever struggle against that monster, and if he _didn't_, if he slipped up, if he had a moment of weakness, or if he just wasn't strong enough.

He would become that monster.

Her sobs turned wet and her tears flowed freely down her arms to mingle with the dried blood there. Where was the justice in that? How was that _right?_

She hated the thing that lived inside him. Sometimes she could feel it setting just below the surface, _watching her_, and she would hate it _more_. But the guilt ate her alive, it pressed in on her from all sides until she couldn't even breathe. Because in the end, she knew it was her fault. She had called it out. She had shed the tear that broke the damn. She had sacrificed what wasn't hers.

All because she had been afraid.

She had been afraid to lose him. She had been afraid to lose someone else she loved. She had been afraid of being left alone.

And the guilt was eating her alive, because she_ knew_ it had saved her. She had called out and it had uncoiled out of him like an ancient demon out of the pit. It had healed him. It had saved him. So she really _should_ have been grateful.

Orihime lay her head down on her knees and cried until she fell asleep by her door. That night she dreamed of sand and dragons and children that couldn't stop crying.

* * *

**A/N Well? What did you think? Feel free to leave a review! It's very easy. Just click that little button at the bottom that says 'review'. **


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: I had something really funny saved up, but I forgot it.

* * *

Chapter Six

Tatsuki loved Ichigo like a brother. She really did. But if something didn't give pretty soon, she was going to _kill_ the bastard. She glared daggers at him from across the room, and if she didn't know any better, she would swear he was ignoring her.

_Bastard…_

Achoo!

Orihime sneezed violently beside her, knocking Tatsuki out of her homicidal haze.

"You shouldn't be here, Orihime. You need a bed."

"I can't get a good score on my quarter finals from bed." She plastered on her bravest smile, earning a sigh from her dark haired friend. Tatsuki could almost hear her giving herself some sort of high energy motivational speech.

She smiled and tried to let Orihime pull her into her exuberantly good mood.

Orihime sneezed again.

_However_… She felt her smile grow vicious. She could kill Ichigo and _still_ be in a good mood.

"Oh, please stop looking at him like that. He's going to see you…and it's really not his fault."

Tatsuki snorted. She knew better.

She had come to Orihime's to pick her up, just like every other morning. Unlike every other morning though, her friend hadn't come down to meet her. So she had gone up. Only, the door had been unlocked….

Alarmed, she pounded a quick knock before throwing it open. It cracked, but didn't budge further. Really starting to worry; she threw her weight into it.

"Umph…"

She paused. "Orihime…?"

"…yes?"

"Are you behind the door?"

"…yes?"

"Are you ok?"

"…yes?"

"Can I come in?"

She shook her head, half shouting. "You cried yourself to sleep… _And_ you got a cold."

"Tatsuki!" She looked around. "Not so loud…"

Tatsuki sighed again as the bell rang.

_Finally…_

* * *

The class let out a collective breath when the bell rang, and Ichigo began packing away his books as chairs and desks scraped the floor. People got up making their way towards the door.

He had been distracted today. His thoughts still heavy from the night before; he had been surprised to hear the bell. Ichigo grabbed his last book as an ominous shadow fell over his desk. He frowned and looked up to see Tatsuki, standing hands on hips, blocking his way to the exit.

"Yo…" He said.

"_Yo…?_ That's all you have to say? _Yo?_" She demanded.

He racked his brain, coming up empty. Was there something he was _supposed_ to say?

"Would you like to tell me,_ why_, exactly it is that Orihime has a cold?" She asked.

His frown deepened. He was pretty sure this was one of those trick questions that girls sometimes asked. He thought about it carefully. " …No?"

She leaned in closer, putting one hand on his desk. That must not have been the right answer.

Part of his brain noted that she had moved within striking distance. He felt a slight sheen of sweat begin to form on his forehead. If he got beaten up by a girl in front of the entire class, his image was gonna be screwed…

He back pedaled like a maniac. "…W-well…she didn't have a coat…"

And he was stammering.

_Damn.._.

So much for the 'Tatsuki-and-Ichigo-keep-creeps-away-from-Inoue' united front. Apparently, he had just been ostracized.

"Did… _you_?" She narrowed her eyes further. He thought he could see the fires of hell burning there. She was giving him the very distinct impression that he had better get this one right.

"Well, yeah…" Then quickly added, "But she didn't want it!"

She smiled and he tried not to flinch.

"Ichigo…" She patted his cheek. "It's Orihime." As if _that_ explained everything.

To his surprise, it did.

"She doesn't know what she wants…" she said gently, her wrath draining out of her. She stopped him with a look when he opened his mouth; her annoyance fluttering back to life. "Don't let it happen again."

She stomped off, muttering something about 'stupid, stupid men' and 'thought she could expect better…'

_Dammit..._ He hated Mondays.

* * *

"First of all, I would like to begin by saying that students are not usually allowed to attend another student's Final Review. "She pinned Tatsuki with a strict look. "However, given Inoue-san's unique situation, I have decided to allow it." She frowned " Also, I apparently already agreed…" She said much quieter, earning curious looks from both girls. She looked up and continued.

"You are not her guardian, so you will not be allowed to speak in this meeting. Understood?"

Tatsuki nodded quickly; startled by the looks she was receiving.

"Very well…" She turned to Orihime and smiled. "This review is to be a general overview of your performance at this school, as well as a guidance session. We will discuss your grades, disciplinary history and any plans for college you might have…" She had picked up the file marked 'Inoue, Orihime' as she spoke, flipping through it.

Orihime squirmed in her seat at the word grades.

"I don't actually have anything marked in here about your future plans, so let's start with that. Where were you planning to attend?"

Orihime twisted her fingers together and tried not to bit her lip. Why was she asking about this? They had already discussed her financial situation. She hated talking about it, especially in front of Tatsuki... She didn't want her to worry.

"Well…we had talked about the p-possibility of maybe …going to work…s-straight away…"

Her sensei looked at her sharply.

"Why?" She asked, before she seemed to catch herself. "Why… would you do that? You are a bright girl and at the top of your class. I will admit that it seems your grades have been slipping this past year…"

Orihime fidgeted.

"…but still, with a little work, you could easily have your pick of the best schools. Don't you want to go to college?"

Orihime felt her eyes sting. Of course she wanted to go to college. _Badly_. But she couldn't ask for that kind of financial commitment from her relatives. And she absolutely _refused_ to use the money from her brother's death.

There had been times she had gone without food instead of using it; rummaging through her fridge, sometimes eating nothing but condiments. She _hated_ that money. She had lost her brother and best friend. A few days later a man came to her door with a large check. She had wanted to tear it up. There was no amount of money that could replace Sora.

Her great aunt had called her silly. She had taken Orihime to the bank and made her open an account. Orihime had cried.

Beside her, Tatsuki shifted uncomfortably, drawing her back to the present.

"It's a monetary problem then… You know, many students have difficulties in that area. Have you considered the possibility of a scholarship?"

Orihime shook her head. She would still need money to live on. She just didn't see how it could work. Why was Ochi-sensei pushing her like this after they had already discussed all these things?

She looked up at her teacher, prepared to be firm if necessary, but drew up short.

Right at that exact moment her teacher had decided to look up at her as well. _Why hadn't she ever noticed how much red was in her teacher's eyes…?_

"What kind of scholarships?" She asked nonplussed.

"Well, they would be performance based scholarships. That means you would have to improve your test scores and your average. At one point, you were ranked third in your grade. That is quite an accomplishment. Even now, you are still in the low teens, but you could do _better_. And if you want to compete for a place at a college, you will have to. You've had to deal with more than most other students your age and you have done well. I think, however, that it's time you had some help."

Orihime sank back into her chair, wondering why she used to like these types of reviews. It must have been back when her grades were so good that her teachers only called her in to tell her what an awesome job she was doing.

She tried not to sigh. She had been on a crash course for a while now. It wasn't that she had stopped trying; she studied now more than ever. She simply had trouble focusing. It had just suddenly seemed so meaningless.

At some point during her life, while frequently being in mortal peril, running through strange worlds, and seeing people and children suffer and die cruel pointless deaths, her brain had decided that Non-linear Biomedical Calculus equations just wasn't need-to-know information. It had dumped it. And now, it just _refused_ to pick it back up.

Ochi-sensei smiled at Orihime with her red-brown eyes. Orihime felt the hairs on her arms stand on end.

"I'm assigning you a tutor." She declared, with an audible amount of triumph in her voice.

"But… you can't do _that_." Tatsuki said. "You said it yourself; she was third in the class…Her reputation…"

"Miss Arisawa, be silent!" Ochi lashed out, stopping the dark haired girl instantly.

Orihime blinked at the woman in front of her and then glanced over to her friend. Tatsuki was stunned as well. Ochi-sensei knew that Tatsuki was outspoken and she had never been overly strict about it. But the look she was giving the girl now couldn't be labeled as anything other than a glare.

_What's going on here…?_

Had Tatsuki done something earlier to make their sensei upset?

The teacher turned back to Orihime seemingly unfazed. "Usually by this time in the year, all of the tutors would be taken. But, luckily for you, I've found you one. We had a student transfer in from the mainland today. Her name is Yuri Kumiho, from Korea."

"The exchange student…? But she's just a little kid! You can't have Orihime tutored by her she'll be a laughingstock!" Tatsuki burst out again, gritting her teeth, ready to argue it out.

Orihime was pretty sure a teacher could get fired for the looks she was giving the dark haired student. _Just what is happening here…?_

"I will not warn you again…" she hissed. "Besides, it's already set up."

Orihime blinked.

_It was…? Hadn't they just decided on it…?_

"It's settled then." Her teacher beamed at her.

* * *

"I didn't know your grades had slipped…"

Orihime and Tatsuki walked down the empty hallway towards the front of the school.

She shrugged, thinking more about how weird their teacher had been acting than the conversation. "I'm sorry, Tatsuki. I didn't want to bother you. You've been training so hard… I didn't want you to think you had to help me out with school work, too."

Tatsuki looked over at the light headed girl. She was in one of her rare quiet moods.

With all the karate training she had been doing lately, Tatsuki had really felt bad about not having as much time for Inoue. She had only brought over dinner once that week, and the week before that she hadn't been able to at all. She knew Orihime got lonely, especially after sunset.

She hadn't been sleeping well either. _Not for about a year now…_

Guilt washed over her at the sudden realization.

No wonder Orihime's grades had been falling. All the while, Tatsuki had been so wrapped up in her own happy world, she hadn't even noticed, hadn't stopped to consider that maybe the girl that always had a smile for everyone, really didn't feel like smiling at all.

Tatsuki's eyes darkened. She hadn't been there when it happened of course, but she had seen their faces _after_…

She had been out of town when she got the call from Ichigo.

He had said that Inoue was sick. The fact that he had called instead of her amber headed friend, sent her into a panic. She rushed back to Karakura and to Orihime's apartment, only to find it full of people she had never seen before and some she had seen only once, during the war. There were others that she was vaguely familiar with, but Tatsuki had never really gravitated to the shinigami scene, so she only knew a few. Even so, she could tell they were disturbed.

She had walked through them unhindered, following Orihime's spiritual pressure, dread eating at her gut with every step. It was different. She hadn't even recognized it as Orihime's until she was in the apartment.

She understood what Ichigo had meant when he said 'sick', because that was how it felt, like someone had tainted it… like it was diseased.

She had found Rukia and her tattooed boyfriend, Ishida and Chad in Orihime's bedroom. The hat and sandal man from the shouten was there and Tatsuki wondered why she hadn't known that he and Orihime were close. Only Ichigo was missing.

Everyone was on edge and Tatsuki instantly understood why. She _knew_ why the door was shut.

The shouten owner sat on the bed holding a sobbing girl. She clutched at him like she was dying or drowning, like she was terrified to let go. Her weeping was anguished. It was terrible to hear.

_No one_ cried like that. _Orihime_ didn't cry like that.

But she _was_ and Tatsuki stood as frozen as anyone else, knowing instinctively that it would be a very bad thing to try pulling her away. And it had gone on for hours…

Everyone missed a lot of school that week.

"You're wearing your sad face again…"

Tatsuki looked over at Orihime's gentle smiling expression.

"Hey, what do you say we go get some ice cream?" Tatsuki suggested. "I won't even make fun of you if you salt it"

Her friend glowed at the mention of food. "Pistachio?"

Tatsuki snorted.

"Whatever makes you happy." She meant it.

Inoue began doing victory laps.

As they walked through the school gates, Orihime stopped skipping and looked at her best friend. "I forgot to ask how the qualification challenge went. How did you do?"

Tatsuki smiled. "Really well. Actually, they must have moved me to the top of the stack, cause I was called up out of nowhere. It doesn't usually happen so _fast_. Anyway, I'll be notified by mail if I made the team, but we can talk about that some other time..."

She gave her friend the critical eye. "You look really thin. Are you getting dinner? What have you been eating?"

* * *

"Ouch, Yuri-chan…" Orihime whined, banging her head repeatedly onto the top of her desk. "This time I'm _suuure_ you broke my thinking parts…"

Orihime knew that she was considered by some to be highly intelligent, but the golden haired spitfire in front of her was putting her to shame. She looked up to see Yuri Kumiho standing in front of her, hands on hips.

Her tutor snatched up the homework that had gotten stuck to her forehead. And Orihime noted, with only a small amount of satisfaction that the girl had to stand on a chair to do it.

She smiled. Her new tutor didn't even hit the four foot mark. She was extremely petite and for some reason reminded Orihime of a feisty puppy. _But_, what she lacked in size she made up for in attitude. Inoue had even seen some of the larger jocks give way to the smaller girl, when she strode down the halls with purpose. She didn't move for anything.

Yup, she leapt snobby girls and complicated trig equations in a single bound, and still had energy left over. Too bad Orihime didn't…

Orihime stifled a giggle, remembering the first time her tutor had met Ichigo. He had been so tall and she had been so short, it was inevitable, really. He had accidently bumped into her, but before he could apologize, she had instantly shot up and stomped on his toes. When Orihime had finally calmed her down enough to explain that Ichigo was a friend, she had instantly come round, all politeness and smiles.

"It's because you're not sleeping right…" She said, clearly frustrated to have such pitiful material to work with.

Orihime sighed, because she knew the girl was right, as usual.

She hadn't lied when she had told her she wasn't sleeping well. She wasn't. But even if she had been, the hollows that were attacking out of the blue every night would still have been a problem. They had been coming out at the most random, inopportune times. It was like they had been organized…_badly_ organized.

And the things they had been doing were all random and silly. It would have been funny, except after two weeks, it was just getting old and it had become obvious that only Ichigo and Orihime were actually fighting hollows…The others were being picked off, one by one, in the most odd and almost comical ways.

Since the first night, Ishida had experienced multiple house floodings, even after switching his living quarters. Chad was usually always waylaid by the need to help someone or save something, and Rukia's pager had her running around at all hours of the day, not sure what would be a hollow and what wouldn't.

And Orihime didn't even want to _think_ about the poor afro headed shinigami actually stationed in Karakura. Some of the things that were happening to him were just…mean and embarrassing.

Their first suspicion had been that Kiskue Urahara was messing around with them. Sending arbitrary attacks to keep them on their toes, but they had dismissed the idea quickly, because there was _no way_ Urahara would have been so sloppy. So they hadn't really taken it seriously; the whole thing just seemed like some big joke.

"You need at least eight hours! What did you get last night?" Yuri questioned, giving Orihime the look that she had begun to call her 'drill sergeant' look.

"Umm…I'm not sure." She responded rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

Yuri sighed, slumping her shoulders in a rare display of defeat. "Look…" She said after a while, scratching her ear like a dog. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off…? My treat." She suggested, flinching at Inoue's excited squeal.

* * *

A/N

To my freaking awesome reviewers: Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: (Picks up flower and begins plucking petals) Bleach belongs to me. Bleach doesn't belong to me. Bleach belongs to me. Bleach doesn't belong to me…

* * *

Chapter Seven

Ichigo came down the stairs to see Tatsuki chatting with Yuzu. Even from across the room he could see the slumped set of her shoulders and the tension in the set of her mouth.

_What was she doing here?_

"Tatsuki, what's going on?" He interrupted. Ignoring his sister's disapproving look as she left to give them some privacy.

In the entire time he had known Tatsuki, he could count the number of times he had seen her cry on two fingers. She looked dangerously close to doing it now.

She squared her shoulders. "I came because I have something to say."

Tatsuki wondered if she was making a mistake. She knew what she wanted to say, but now that she was on the cusp of saying it, she was finding it surprisingly difficult. She could hear him shifting.

"What's going on, Tatsuki? …Is it Inou-"

"No." She cut him off. "It's…" She tilted her head up so she could look him in the eye. "I passed the Japanese International Qualifiers."

At his clueless look, she clarified. "I'm going to be training for the Olympics."

The tension left his face as a genuinely warm smile began to take its place. "That's great…"

"That's not what I came to say." She cut him off again.

It was hard enough to get out. If he kept being so worried and _nice,_ she might just turn around and leave. "I'll have to stay in a private location. The bus leaves Saturday."

She was pleased at the lack of emotion in her voice.

The smile left his face. "Have you told Inoue?"

She nodded. "I just came from there."

He sighed rubbing his neck. "I get it. You want me to look after her while you're away…"

"No." She shook her head. "I came here to tell you…" She paused to put steel back into her voice as she threatened the man she respected more than her own father. "I came here to tell you, that you had better not hurt her, Ichigo Kurosaki."

* * *

Orihime sat on the front steps of the school that looked out over the courtyard. She had come out to wait for Tatsuki, only to realize her friend had left a week ago. She tied her shoe and made sure her thigh-high tights were all the way up before standing.

It was going to be another long walk home.

Her thoughts drifted off when she saw Ooshima, the school bully, who was until recently, expelled. He towered over the other students, but given that he had been held back three times, she supposed that made sense. She knew he considered himself to be Ichigo's rival, and being that almost the entire school knew how Inoue felt about him, that always meant unpleasantness for her.

He had some sort of notion about 'stealing Kurosaki's girl'. Orihime wrinkled her nose. She had tried to tell him that they weren't together, but he had mistaken it as a personal invitation.

Orihime frowned, still not sure how she had managed to mess that conversation up so badly.

Still, he had a horrible temper, and was someone she would rather not deal with until Tatsuki got back. In fact, maybe she could just sneak around the other side… She raised a determined foot the direction she wanted to go.

"Hey, there, Orihime-chan… How ya been doin'?" Ooshima said, materializing out of nowhere and automatically leaning into her personal space.

_Darn it…_ She wrinkled her nose again. He must have snuck up while she was distracted.

"Uh…Hi, Ooshima-kun…eh …Is there something you needed…?" She tried to smile, hoping he might just decide to leave after exchanging a few pleasantries. Remembering her outstretched foot, she sat it back down.

He smiled down and gave her a long once over. She wondered how many showers it would take before she felt clean again.

"I think ya already know what I _need _and ya just like tease'n me with it." He leered, leaning further over her. She noticed his friends snickering behind him for the first time.

"N-no…I don't know what you mean." She leaned back to get every possible inch between them. His hot breath was making her sick…

"_What the fuck do you think you're doing?" _

Relief flooded through Orihime as she looked over her shoulder to see Ichigo.

"Kurosaki-kun!" She said, happy for an excuse out of her difficult situation.

Even in the strained situation, she took a second to appreciate how his school uniform and open jacket complimented his lean build, before looking up to see his clenched jaw and blazing eyes. And they confirmed her suspicions that, _no_, he mos_t _definitely was _not_ happy. She tried to ignore the possessive spark in his eyes, along with little tingly feelings it made in her belly and failed miserably.

She started toward him only to be stopped by a firm arm around her waist. Keeping her eyes trained on Ichigo, Orihime began to worry for the first time.

He had gone still when Ooshima grabbed her, standing unnaturally motionless, narrowed eyes never leaving the hand on her hip. His own hands were clenched tightly at his sides, but none of that said as much as his eyes.

He looked like he wanted to cut that hand off. He looked downright menacing.

Orihime watched Ichigo closely, tuning out the towering bully beside her and the insults he was hurling. He was struggling, on the inside, and he would lose because he wouldn't be able to walk away. He could never be the type of person that would leave a friend.

This was bad.

She told herself that she was concerned Ooshima was going to get himself killed, but even as she repeated it her head like a mantra, she knew that it was a lie. The truth was she was much more frightened by the thing she saw looking at that hand through Ichigo's eyes.

She had to do something. She couldn't just stand here and let this happen. She didn't want anyone to get hurt, but…

_She wasn't a child anymore… _

Orihime chose the lesser of two evils.

Tatsuki had always said that it didn't really matter what color belt you wore in karate. When it came down to a fight, it was all about instincts and heart. It had taken her a long time to understand what her friend had meant, because Orihime never fought.

But now?

Orihime took a long breath, trying to tell herself that he deserved it. She slid her left foot back into stance and felt bad that he probably wouldn't even see it coming.

Moving before she could change her mind, she brought her left hand around with all her might and slammed it sideways into the adam's apple that had been bobbing up and down beside her face. She wanted to wince at the look of pain and surprise he gave her, but she had been drilled relentlessly, so she made sure not to hesitate in her follow up.

He was spluttering so badly from her first strike, that he didn't even notice she had used the arm on her waist to flip him over until his back slammed into the concrete. He lay momentarily stunned, as his lungs struggled to re-claim the oxygen his brain needed to function.

Orihime stumbled back until she hit something warm. A pair of hands on the back of her elbows steadied her, and she looked up to see Ichigo blinking down at Ooshima on the ground. They were sharing an identical look of confusion.

"Inoue…" Rukia stepped into her view. "That…was amazing…"

Had Rukia been there the whole time?

She was giving Orihime a look of proud awe, like she had just discovered they were sisters separated at birth. Her face turned into a pleased smile as Ooshima's shocked friends helped carry him away. He looked back at her with wide, startled eyes. It made a twinge of guilt sprout up in her chest. Normally when he and Ichigo butted heads, he would end up shouting numerous curses and threats before running off to the school nurse with his wounded pride. She guessed he didn't find it quite appropriate now.

"Ichigo…?" Rukia said, watching the expression on his face with a sly look on her own. "Don't you think that Inoue-chan did really well?"

"Huh?" He blinked at the dark haired girl with baffled eyes. He dropped his hands back to his sides and she was free to turn around.

"Don't you think Inoue did well?" She repeated with a smirk.

"Uh… yeah. That was…When did you learn to do that?" He asked her, suddenly focusing.

"Well," Orihime thought sticking a finger under her chin. "Tatsuki's been making me do those drills for years now, ever since we were in junior high, so I guess about that long ago…"

Rukia snickered, "I heard Ichigo and Tatsuki used to train together, too…" She bit back a laugh at Ichigo's dirty look, but it really was too good to pass up. Opportunities to tease Ichigo like this just didn't pop up as much as they used to. "Now that Tatsuki's gone, maybe Ichigo could teach you some of _his_ moves…"

She laughed inwardly at her own double entendre, watching them both stiffen at the suggestive comment. Maybe she was starting to get Urahara's twisted sense of humor, humans really could be so much fun.

Inoue waved her hands around franticly, "No that's not necessary!"

Rukia watched a flustered Orihime run back and forth in a spastic blur insisting that she was already prepared for any emergency. She wondered if the insinuating remark had broken something in the girl's brain.

Orihime bit her lip and tried hard to stop thinking about what it would be like for Ichigo to 'put the moves on her'. Did he actually _have_ moves? She knew he could fight, but wasn't sure if that was the same thing. She had once overheard Abarai-kun insist that he just swung his sword around hoping to get lucky, although she was pretty sure that he had just been teasing.

She bit her lip and looked over to see that he had tuned out of the conversation.

* * *

Ichigo stubbornly ignored the looks of self-gratifying, sadistic glee Rukia kept throwing his way as she teased Inoue and by default, Ichigo. He knew from experience that any acknowledgement would only encourage her.

He sighed, staring at his shoes on the sidewalk, not really listening as Rukia and Orihime chattered on in their girly fashion. He was going to have to figure something out soon.

Lately, his thoughts had been consumed by his hollow, and although it wasn't a new problem, it suddenly seemed to be getting much worse; sneaking around inside his head, testing his limits, waiting for Ichigo to drop his guard. It was maddening. The worst part was he _knew_ it was just to get under his skin; to get him worked up. It was getting out of hand. It was popping up at all hours of the day, even in his dreams. It had nearly invited its self to dinner last night; his _little sisters_ had been there, and that was just _unacceptable_.

She probably didn't know it, but Orihime had just saved that bastard Ooshima, and not a moment too soon. He had almost lost it. Seeing that filthy hand on _Inoue_ of all people, it was like watching a wolf pick off a newborn lamb.

He had _wanted_ to lose it.

He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair ignoring the quizzical glances it earned him. She needed to know. He didn't know what he would say, but if Inoue was in some sort of danger from this thing, she deserved to know.

He perked at a new thought. Maybe Urahara could do something about this. Seal it up or just make it harder for it to interact with the outside world. He could usually be counted on for things like that, right?

He frowned. Then again, he might just do something _stupid_. Like the blue tights and the sparkly red cape Ichigo had found in his closet upon returning from Hueco Mundo. Apparently, that bastard had had Kon running around town in some sort of Superhero getup, in_ his _body_._ He gritted his teeth. It had taken him weeks to spread the rumor that he must have some sort of psychotic look-a-like.

He pushed those thoughts aside and then locked the door on them for good measure.

Ok. _Not_ Urahara.

The vizards then, and if they didn't know how to help him, he would just kick Shinji around till they thought something up. He smiled at the thought.

That settled it. He would see what they had to say, and then he could tell Orihime when he knew something definite. With his newly plotted course of action, he was feeling better already. Until Rukia elbowed him in the gut.

"_I said…"_ She emphasized. "I need to head back to Soul Society to give my monthly report to the Captain."

He rubbed his sore rib, scowling. "Well, no one's stopping you."

She sniffed and turned her nose up, and for just a second Ichigo would have sworn she had channeled the spirit of her brother from the other side. "I know that you are a thoughtless jerk, so I'm going to make things very simple for you and your poor under-employed brain. Walk. Inoue. Home. She's lonely."

Ichigo blinked at Rukia feeling muddled. He hadn't known that Inoue was lonely.

Not that he had been paying attention to the conversation, but he was pretty sure it had been all superfluous girl stuff. They hadn't talked about being lonely. He would have _heard_ that. Then again, girls did tend to have their own secret language; saying one thing and meaning something completely different. He didn't understand how they could keep track of it.

He turned to see Orihime, who was looking at the dark headed shinigami like she had just sprouted a second or third head and then started spitting fire. Of course, she immediately began denying it.

He sighed rubbing the back of his neck. He might not understand girl talk, but he was getting pretty good at 'Inoue talk'.

She _was_ lonely.

_Damn…how had he missed that?_

Of course she was. Tatsuki had been gone all week and she would be for the rest of the year. Maybe even the one after that. He racked his brain trying to remember any of Inoue's other friends' names. Michiru and Ryo, they always talked in class, but he couldn't ever remember seeing them together outside. Chizuru…no. Just, no.

_What the hell? _Didn't she have any other friends? What had she been doing after school all week? He paused, thinking back on their odd series of hollow attacks. No wonder Orihime was always quick to show up.

He was such a self-centered bastard. He just hadn't thought about it.

He turned toward her apartment. "Let's go Inoue, and no arguing." He added.

* * *

He missed the anxious looks she gave Rukia, who merely smiled gently before shooing her after him. She hurried to catch up with his long strides. As they walked Orihime glanced over at Ichigo, trying not to be obvious about it. She hadn't expected Rukia to say that or even pick up on what she was thinking, and although she was really grateful, she didn't want to inconvenience him. He had enough responsibility without worrying about her.

Although, she would be a liar if she said she wasn't enjoying all the extra attention she had been getting. She smiled and decided to keep the thought to herself, in case it had been some sort of accidental oversight on his part.

Orihime had thought more than once about telling him how she felt over the last two years, but the idea of putting him on the spot like that had been something that worried her. She didn't want to force him into anything he wasn't ready for, or god-forbid, didn't want. When he was ready, if he was ready, she would be waiting.

And although it had been mostly patient waiting, she had, at insistence of some of her classmates, dated. But every time she had found a guy that seemed interested, they had ended up either disappearing or avoiding her altogether. They had all seemed excited at first, so she didn't get it. Was there something wrong with her?

She wrinkled her nose. Her breath, maybe? She tried to sniff it discreetly. Minty fresh. That figured. She carried a toothbrush everywhere, so that wasn't it. Noticing some girls walking down the sidewalk, she mentally checked off everything that set them apart. Normal hair? Check. Perfectly tanned skin. Check. Not built like a mutant freak in the chest area? Check.

Yup, they were all perfect, _perfectly normal_, girls. Nothing like her.

While she had been contemplating all the ways they were different, the group had gotten close enough that she could she them appraising her companion and making some very unladylike comments. She glanced over to see if Ichigo had heard or if he seemed inclined to be particularly receptive, but to her relief, he wasn't paying attention again. He was looking at the sky.

"…the hell? What's with these guys lately?"

For a moment she was puzzled. Then, she felt it coming and in the open air of the sky a small fracture began to appear. It materialized suddenly, cracking open like an egg, before peeling back to reveal the beast emerging from the other side.

Orihime watched the sky split. She had always hated seeing the unnatural bending of what should have been empty space, but it was still so impressive that she couldn't turn away. It was almost a compulsory action. She was so wrapped up in it that she didn't notice when Ichigo moved.

"Hey, hold this for me." He said, shoving his badge into his chest and leaping free of his body without another word.

"Eh?" She squeaked, scrambling to catch his body before his head cracked open on the sidewalk.

Ichigo sprung forward easily and landed with a sort of careless grace that was foreign to his physical body. He reached for his sword, sleeve sliding up, giving the flustered girl behind him a nice view of his well-toned arm.

_Oh…_

As much as she hated seeing him in danger, Orihime had to admit, she loved watching him fight. For one thing, the pressure that poured out of him was staggering. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on other things, her attention always seemed to drift back. He possessed a sort of charismatic energy that was mesmerizing.

"Is he alright, dear?" Asked an older passerby, inconvenienced, yet too polite to continue on her way.

"Oh, yes. Umm…Narcoleptic." She gave her most convincing smile and hoped her voice was believable.

The lady looked at her oddly, before turning, never aware of the dangerous situation lurking a hundred yards in front of them.

Orihime looked down at the peaceful face of Ichigo's body resting in her lap. The scowl was gone. She loved his scowls, but she loved this look more. He looked young and unguarded, almost trusting, even though he really wasn't there at all.

She reached a hand up and brushed the hair out of his eyes, letting her fingertips run across the now smooth and un-rumpled skin of his brow, smiling at the little lines beginning to form there. He was so good looking it made her chest ache. As she lowered her hand, she let her fingers brush lightly across his lips. The pang of longing that lanced through her was like a physical wound, sharp and aching.

She held her breath until it passed, wondering what it would have been like if she had been brave enough to kiss him when she had had the chance. She could already imagine the press of his warm lips under hers. She licked her lips, realizing the ache from her chest had moved up to them. She moved closer, watching his lashes rest against his cheeks.

* * *

**A/N Wow! How evil am I for ending this there? Lol. Sorry, but if you want to find out what happens you will just have to review! Yes, I am just that shallow and manipulative….**


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: I hereby state that I do not own bleach, nor intend any sort of infringement on what is the sole property of Kubo Tite.

Warnings: Umm, probably should have started this a while back, but from here on out expect strong language.

* * *

**So… **_**everyone**_** is asking what's up with Orihime and her big bad secret. **

**All have to say is: be patient. It will come, I promise! This chapter gets us closer.**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Ichigo glared at the dismembered hollow until it faded into nothingness, wishing not for the first time, that he could chase after it and keep cutting it up until he was satisfied. Not that it had been especially troublesome… just especially _annoying_. It had made the usual threats, rip you apart, eat your soul, lay siege to your town, yada, yada, ect.

All the usual threats.

Except, then of course, it had gone off and used his name. His name that he hadn't bothered giving, since he figured it would take longer than just killing it out right. And that was that. These attacks were targeted. He had wanted to question it, but a few over-enthusiastic slashes had it finished off prematurely.

Although, in his experience, it didn't take long before some elaborately decked out bad guy with an overestimation of his own skills, darted out of the woodwork with some seriously convoluted plot to take over the world or some other stupid shit.

Ichigo scratched his ear. He had hoped he might catch a break this time. _Damn_. Well, at least he could tell Inoue about it and then they could call up the others and put them on alert. They were going to have to hash this thing out at some point. No more screwing around.

He turned in the direction of Orihime and where he had left his body, making his way back. Only, everything wasn't quite the same way he had left it. He must have shed his body too fast, because she was leaning over him disbursing a great deal of attention to his head.

Not that he could see through the thick curtain of her auburn hair. It must have fallen to the ground before she could snag it. It didn't matter, he was sure she'd have it all fixed up in a few minutes anyway.

"What's the damage?" He asked crouching beside her.

He fell back with wide eyes when she gave a high pitched squeal, before shooting up into the air. His body, forgotten, tumbled from her lap with a muffled thump.

"Kurosaki-kun! I-I…just…" Her usually active imagination failed her utterly. Orihime's mouth, however, just kept trying. "I… I…uh…"

_Oh, god…_

She tried to calm herself, feeling mortified at getting caught with her hand in the 'Ichigo cookie jar'.

_He's going to hate me…yell at me…. this is worse than the time I crashed the whole marching band down the stairs…I've taken __**advantage**__ of Kurosaki-kun…! His reputation will be ruined! I'll have to do the honorable thing and marry him…His family will want a dowry, but I won't be able to pay. I'll have to borrow cash from loan sharks and sell contraband to little kids and bad guys, but then they'll want us to pay interest… they'll threaten to break our knee caps if me and Kurosaki-kun don't turn tricks to bring in the moneys… _

She clenched a fist._ Breathe, Orihime! You can do this!_

Completely oblivious to her rather uncomfortable and animated state of affairs, Ichigo leaned over his body, inspecting his head and finding nothing wrong. He climbed back in, before grabbing his things from where Inoue had neatly arranged them beside his body.

"Thanks, Inoue." He said it like he meant it.

Orihime, who wanted to crawl under a rock, wisely said nothing of her thoughts...

"…Umm…You're welcome?"

* * *

"I'm home." Ichigo called out, more out of habit then wanting his presence noted. He tossed his bag down, but stood waiting by the door before kicking off his shoes.

Sure enough.

"Ichi-!"

He slammed his foot into his father's face, stopping him dead in his tracks.

It was like the bastard _enjoyed_ pain.

"You never learn…" Karen said, without taking her eyes off the TV.

Beside her, Yuzu was twisted around looking over the back of the sofa, frowning at her father's momentarily prone form. "Daddy, you need to learn some _new_ moves or you'll never be able to defeat brother."

Isshin popped up from the ground, causing Ichigo to tense up again. "_New_ moves, you say? Ha! That's daddy's little strategist! We'll do it together! 'The New Alliance of Fathers and Daughters Against Ichigo'! We can call it …N-AF-DA…I…" He stumbled all the way over the imaginary word.

Ichigo just _knew_ he did it to irritate him. It wasn't even that hard. He tried sounding it out in his head before catching himself and throwing on the mental brakes.

"You can leave me out of it." Karen said in her bored tone.

"_Me, too_." Ichigo added, kicking his shoes off, prepared to stomp up to his room. The doorbell rang behind him. "I got it"

"Did you _hear_ that, Yuzu? Your brother and sister are so _cruel_ to their _father_!"

He tried to ignore it, but he knew his dad had brought out the waterworks.

_How embarrassing…_

He pulled open the door and did a double take at the green, white, and black clad figure. Standing on the front steps was none other than Urahara Kiskue.

Ichigo blinked.

"Hey there, little boy, is your _daddy_ home?" He waved a fan while spinning his cane. Ichigo wondered if it was difficult. The other part of his brain was just yelling.

_NO._

_NO. NO. NO. NO. NO._

There was _no way_ this was happening.

He stared at the devious, blond mastermind turned shopkeeper in front of him, before turning to face his father's overly winning smile.

_Damn it, he was trapped. And this wasn't happening._

He could handle one of them at a time, maybe, but both of them _together? In the same room…? At the same time…? Together…?_

_There was no way in hell._

He saw grey spots as his brain tried rebelling against what his eyes were telling him.

Maybe, if he just closed the door, Urahara would go away and his father, possessing all the rational continuity of a small animal, might just forget he had ever been there.

He started to test out his theory, only to realize belatedly that Kiskue had already stepped around him.

_Damn…_

He thought about making a run for it, but Urahara had only ever been in his house once that Ichigo was aware of, and here he mentally stressed _aware of_, so he had to have a good reason to do so now, right?

"And how are the lovely young Kurosaki sisters this evening?" Kiskue asked.

Ichigo was beginning to feel sick.

Yuzu blushed, beaming at the compliment. "We are very well, thank you for asking, Urahara-san!"

Karen ignored him completely, having never gotten over the grudge from being passed up for the title of 'Red-something-or-other'. Ichigo wished he could do the same.

"Are you ready, Isshin-san?" Kiskue drawled, turning to his host.

"Of course." His father replied smoothly, for once showing no trace of his typical insanity.

"Hold it! Stop! No one move!" Ichigo flicked his gaze back and forth between them. "You!" He pointed an accusing finger at the two men. "Just what the hell is going on?"

He flinched at the panic in his own voice.

"Why, Kurosaki-kun, Someone might think that you are trying to imply something." One surprisingly cognitive gray eye peeked out at him from beneath the green striped hat.

Ichigo threw him an incredulous look. _Well, that's good. He had damn well meant to imply something._

His father threw an arm around his shoulders in what Ichigo could only assume was supposed to be a fatherly way. "Daddy is deeply moved that you hunger to devote your time to your father, but daddy needs his grown up time now, Ichi-nee-nee."

_Hunger to devote? _

Ichigo took a moment to try regaining his patience before he spilled blood. He threw his father off.

"Like I care about that! I just know that you two perverts are up to no good!" He resisted the urge to stamp his foot.

He had to give them credit, they both seemed truly shocked. Urahara with a hand over his heart and his father with a wrist slung over his forehead in a theatrical fashion.

"We are simply continuing a long held appointment to search for the perfect frozen dairy confections. Now, I heard from Inoue-san, that there is a place that makes _to-die-for_ Pistachio sherbet." Kiskue winked at him.

Ichigo cocked an eyebrow and wasn't even slightly surprised to feel it twitch. "You're going to a strip club, aren't you?"

Isshin thumped him smartly in the back of the head. "Don't be crude." He threw a thumb over his shoulder as he followed Kiskue out the door. "Think of your sisters." And out he went, shutting the door behind them.

Ichigo stared at the place they had been for a full minute before walking dazed up to his room.

Nothing good could possibly come of this.

_Damn it_…

* * *

Orihime itched her nose. _Hmm…someone must be talking about me._

She looked out over the street beside her apartment and shivered for no reason at all. Even for March it had become unseasonably warm, but as she sat on her balcony, resting with outstretched legs and trying to warm herself by sunlight alone, she just kept trembling.

Shaking out her feet, she stood gripping the black iron rail of her apartment's balcony. She watched the people down on the street scurrying home from work or shopping, but she didn't really see anything.

She had dreamed again last night.

No, dreaming implied that the experience had been pleasant in some way. This was different. It was like remembering during sleep, in a way that made things change in subtle and disturbing ways. Her sleep had been choked by visions of moonlight on bone masks. It had been full of a boy with pale skin and electric green eyes and the broken skull of a little girl dressed in sack cloth. It had been sad, but in its own way, it had been peaceful enough.

Then everything had shifted; changed until she was in a new and frightening place, where the light was too dull and cast shadows with sharp angles. It was a warehouse. She knew it of course. She had tried with all her might to forget it, to forget the eerie not quite sane voice of the shinigami fugitive, as he rationalized the slaughter of the innocent. The torture of children...

Orihime shuddered.

_When would this stop?_

It had been almost a year. Everyone else had moved on, didn't talk about it. Things hadn't been put right, but it was as close as they could get. She knew that. So why, was she still stuck? No one had blamed her for what she had done. On the contrary, she had been highly praised by soul society, _excessively_ _even_. And the lost souls had been put to rest… so why couldn't she put her _conscience_ to rest?

She felt the familiar friendly weight of guilt coming down to settle around her shoulders. She almost welcomed its presence. It helped to fight off her sharp anxieties; her fear of losing herself, of giving in again to the hatred for that kind of unapologetic evil.

She was _scared_, she thought, slightly bitterly. _Again_.

She understood why Ichigo was so unwilling to talk about his hollow. Who would want exposure like that? Who could just open themselves up and show the world all the ugliness they were capable of?

She shivered again at the mere thought of his hollow, gripping the rail tighter. She hated _it_ and she hated the part of her that was so much like it. After everything was said and done, was she any better? Hadn't there been something inside her that had snapped? Not a hollow, but something ugly, something capable of killing an unarmed person.

Orihime felt something small and warm and wet land on her foot and she looked down to see blood dripping off her fingers. A sharp splinter of metal dug deep into her flesh from the force of her grasp. She pulled it out and sucked the wound to stop her bleeding.

_You deserve this, you know... _

She sighed. Usually she ignored this string of thought, but now she picked it up and followed it to find out where it went. She felt too drained to fight with herself. She was caught up in a world of next-times. _Next time she would be stronger… Next time she would stay out of the way… Next time no one would get hurt trying to protect her…_

A world of next times closed in around her, making her feel both crowded and alone.

_You couldn't keep from getting caught. You couldn't destroy the hogyoku. You couldn't save those children. You couldn't even be strong when it mattered. All you ever did was cut the rope that held the sickle, and you couldn't even do that before they were all dead._

She gasped at the unexpected force of her own remorse. Bowing under its weight until her head touched the railing.

Why was she doing this? She couldn't go back or undo anything. She should just forget it like everyone else. There was _no time_ to be doing this. There was homework, and everyone was coming over. After that, there was dinner to be made and sleep and school the next day. There was no time for what-could-have-beens…and there would never, ever, be enough time to replace what had been lost…

She turned her gaze back to the people on the street. They all seemed to be in a hurry. She wondered if any of them could really say what it meant to lose time.

She blinked, speaking of losing time_…what am I doing? Everyone will be here soon._

As if on cue, a familiar orange head came into view, cutting through the sea of browns and blacks.

_Holy crap, he's early!_

Orihime spun around assessing the situation of her apartment at light speed.

A pile of clean laundry sat on her couch waiting to be folded, her afternoon lunch was exactly where she had left it, uneaten, and various books and magazines graced every available surface.

She could hear the light trudge of footsteps from the bottom of the stairs.

Orihime burst into a flurry of movement.

Dishes in the kitchen... Sandwich in mouth… Schoolbooks in bag… magazines in the holder… and laundry on bed…

She grabbed the pile of laundry, wrestling it into submission, as a sharp rapping at the door signaled that she was out of time. Throwing the clothes on her bed she shut the door and ran to let Ichigo in.

She opened the door and pushed down the sweet pang that assaulted her senses.

He stood, head tilted to the side, slouching against the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets. His navy hoodie was undone and he had the sleeves shoved up to his elbows. Tight faded denim jeans hugged his legs and Orihime really hoped she wasn't staring.

He looked up at her from under his bangs, going still at the sight of her.

There was a long moment of silence, where they simply looked at each other before she realized she was supposed to let him in, not stand there gaping.

"H-hi Kurosaki-kun, you're early!" She said, stepping aside to let him pass.

* * *

Ichigo blinked, realizing that once again, he had just checked out his friend. He brushed by shoving a hand through his hair.

"Yeah..."

He looked around, trying to sort out what he wanted to say. His brain had scrambled for a split second, upon seeing her out of her school uniform and in normal lounge clothes, looking tousled and out of breath. _Formfitting lounge clothes_, his mind supplied, before he calmly told it to _shut the hell up_.

"Want some tea?"

Before he could reply, she skipped off to the kitchen, making herself busy.

That's good. It would probably be better if she wasn't looking directly at him. "Well, I thought we could talk about some stuff."

The rattling and tinkling in the kitchen stilled for a moment before continuing.

"What about?" She asked.

He idly picked up a scrap of fabric from her floor, clenching it between nervous fingers, as he wondered how to say what he needed to without alarming her.

* * *

Orihime taste tested the tea as she peeked around the corner to see why he hadn't answered.

She froze.

Standing in her living room stood Ichigo, with a bewildered expression on his face, dangling a piece of cream colored lace off of one finger.

_Oh, god no…_

* * *

Ichigo wrinkled his forehead as he tried to figure out what it was, something girly, no doubt, _like a hair tie or a bracelet or something-_

He went rigid, realizing exactly _what_ he had been toying with for the past several minutes, and exactly how little of _it_ there was.

He flung the offending garment across the room as if it had bitten him.

Orihime sputtered and choked as she felt hot tea shoot up the back of her throat, barely registering the panicked yelp, as he spun around to face her. They stared at each other with shocked expressions as she tried to regulate her breathing.

A loud knock at the door made them both jump. She watched him look over at it as if he expected it to implode, before striding over to it and jerking it open.

"What?" He growled, opting to cover his discomfort with anger.

Rukia, Chad and Uryu blinked simultaneously.

"Are we _interrupting_?" Rukia asked, ever insinuating.

Uryu cocked an eyebrow.

Ichigo fantasized about shaving it off. "No."

"Then let us in, baka." She shoved past to greet Orihime with a smile and a warm embrace. Uryu and Chad followed at a slower pace.

So much for saying what he needed to say before they got there.

Ichigo had finally managed to talk to the other vizards about his hollow and although it hadn't been as productive as he wanted, it had at least been insightful. And entertaining. There was nothing quite like watching Shinji get the shit beat out of him with a sandal. At least, until it had been aimed at him.

"S'up, Ichigo? Long time no see…" Shinji scratched his head without taking off his hat. A feat which never failed to amaze Ichigo, considering the blond vizard was hanging upside down when he did it. "We were startin' to think ya didn't need us anymore."

"Don't flatter yourself, Shinji, I never needed you." He said by way of greeting. "Hey." He nodded to Risa and Kensei, who were crouched over a magazine with a sultry half naked woman on the cover.

"Good afternoon, Kurosaki-san" Hachi greeted from over Ichigo's shoulder.

Ichigo jumped. "Hachi, make some noise or ring some bells or something, if you're gonna do that."

The large vizard looked thoughtful. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Ya gotta remember, Hach, our strawberry headed friend here is spiritually blind…"

"Where's the squirt?" Ichigo asked, more to change the subject than as a passing interest.

Shinji shrugged. "Who cares-"

SMACK

"Owww…" Shinji moaned, clutching his head on the ground, as Hiyori stood over him, sandal in hand.

"Ya freakin' fat ass loser! He asked didn't he?" She raised the shoe again, just in case he hadn't got the message. "What the hell do _you_ want?" She asked, rounding on him.

He took a step back before his resolve solidified. "I got a problem with my hollow."

She actually looked interested. Shinji sat up rubbing his cheek and wisely said nothing.

"Yeah?" She asked. An unpleasant smile curved her lips. "Been givin' you trouble again, cause I'd love ta beat it outta him."

Ichigo felt his hollow twitch. Everyone was looking at him.

"Not exactly in that way, but..." The idea was certainly intriguing."I don't think that would work. It's a problem with Inoue. I think that"_ How to put it? _"he might be…uh, _interested_ in her."

"Might be?" Shinji stood, directing a sharp gaze at Ichigo through narrowed eyes. "What do you mean by saying _something like that_ so _lightly_?" He snatched Hiyori's sandal and thumped Ichigo over the head with it. "Orihime-chan" Thump. "Is" Thump. "a nice" Thump. "girl!" Thump, thump, thump.

"Hey! Cut that out!" He yelled.

"Yeah!" Hiyori screeched. "That's my shoe. Get your own!" She snatched it back and immediately turned it on him, hitting him until she was placated. "But you," She pointed it at Ichigo. "What are _we_ supposed to do about something like that?"

"I don't know. Haven't any of you ever had a problem with it?" He looked around at a sea of blank faces. Even Hiyori was speechless, at least for a second anyway.

"Ya stupid fuckin' retard! How the hell would we?" She drew back to slap him with the shoe again, but something she said had caught his attention and he didn't want to be distracted.

Hiyori looked up when her hand stopped moving. His grip was impressive, but not painful. When she tried to pull back, nothing happened.

"What do you mean, h_ow would we_?" He met her gaze and something in his eyes made her swallow.

"She meant…" Shinji said, extracting her hand out of his iron grasp. "We…none of us…have the kind of relationship with our hollows that you have with yours… We don't communicate with them. It's us or them. We have no in between."

Ichigo stood dumbfounded. _What…?_

His hollow moved again, and he felt a surge of irritation well up to replace shock.

"Well, you know that information might have been useful _a couple years ago_." He said, annoyance coloring every word.

"We thought you knew." Shinji blinked. "Your hollow was a byproduct of Shattered Shaft. That's Urahara's. Why didn't you go to him?"

Ichigo glared at him as if he were being stupid on purpose. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Shrugs all around. _Damn._

"Perhaps if you explained your troubles further…Inoue-san is a very special young lady. It would be very unfortunate if something were to happen to her." Hachi said.

Ichigo wondered if he had imagined the chilling spark in the large man's eyes. He had always been fond of Orihime. Well, Ichigo supposed, if it came down to it, he could always stash her here. His hollow gave another irritated twitch. He shook his head, trying to sort out his thoughts.

"He's just all…I don't know…It's like he wants to get at her…"

"In what way?" Shinji asked sharply. "You think he wants to devour her soul?"

"Maybe, it's hard to say. When she's around, it's like" _Why did I come here…?_ "like burning, on the inside, It's umm…intense…" He felt totally ridiculous.

"Ha, the last time I checked, that was a man's natural reaction to an attractive woman." Kensei called from his second story perch. He flipped open a centerfold.

Ichigo glared.

"You believe his intent is malevolent?" Hachi asked.

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I? It's not like he's ever anything else." An image of a claw tipped finger running down a delicate white throat made him pause. "Except…except once, in a fight with Ulquiorra."

The room stiffened around him at the name of the green eyed espada.

"He killed him, sort of. I don't remember it really, just bits sometimes, but he never touched Inoue, Uryu, yes. Inoue, no. It could have been a coincidence." He added.

"This is stupid." Hiyori said, sitting cross legged on the ground. "You dumbasses already done said he could talk to 'em, didn't ya?"

So he had left with little more information than he had come with, and a plan to have it out with his hollow, sometime in the near future.

Something hit his forehead. He looked down to see a chip spinning circles on the coffee table.

"Are you going to sit there staring out the window, or are you going to join the discussion?"

He looked up to see Uryu peering up at him over his glasses. "We were discussing the latest hollow attack. Were there any similarities _you_ noticed between it and the other attacks?"

Ichigo didn't like the way he had emphasized the word _you_. "No, not really…it was an easy fight. They've all been pretty easy, more of a distraction than anything."

Uryu nodded. "That seems to be the situation, although the hollow attacks have been targeting you and Inoue-san." He looked around, stopping on Rukia. "Has anyone spoken with Urahara?"

"No. He's never there." Rukia complained. "I thought we had already decided he wouldn't be so messy with one of his pranks."

Ichigo snorted. "Maybe he just wants to throw us off the trail."

"It wouldn't surprise me. He has enjoyed similar ventures in the past." He pushed up his glasses. "Also it would seem my suits have been particularly susceptible to the antics of the culprit trying to distract us. Rukia's beloved pager, Chad's…uh, well …weakness, for cute things and people in distress…"

Chad shifted silently.

"These are very personal character traits."

"What about the attacks on Inoue and me? What kind of sense does that make?" Ichigo asked, wordlessly daring the quincy to have an answer for _that_.

Uryu gave him a condescending look. "If it is Urahara, the answer to that should be obvious. He is a very observant man, even if you aren't."

This time Inoue shifted in her seat.

Ichigo frowned at the slight, even though he had no idea what it was. "Rukia already said he disappeared."

"Yes, and I don't think that we could find him if he doesn't want to be found." He sighed. They all did, except Orihime.

"We could always burn down his shop." Everyone turned to look at her and she realized she hadn't been paying the strictest attention, merely blurted out whatever popped into her head. She blushed. "Or something…"

"That's not a bad idea, Inoue." Rukia chimed in.

The guys exchanged apprehensive glances.

Uryu answered. "That probably wouldn't stop him... It might not even _be_ him."

Rukia grinned at Orihime. "Well, I thought it was a great idea!"

"Heheh… thanks Kuchiki-san!" Inoue beamed back rubbing her head.

The guys shared another look.

"Let's just be careful, all the same."

* * *

**A/N **

**Ok, so I've been meaning to thank all of my awesome reviewers for a while now, so here goes… In no particular order:**

**Nypsy, DarkAngel2098, Kira, Hmmm, , WestAnimeBrigade, TheRainingSun, halfdemonfan, AbaraiArekushisu, BrowniesLover, Alice Hattercandy, Recchinon, Luvtousall, Ero-Chibi-Suly-Sama, Chuain, ForeverisGone13, Cookies18, Sachi Nombrado & Crystal Dawn.**

**Thank you so much! **

**And a special thank you to the following brilliant writers, all of whom inspire me like crazy! **

**Crystal Dawn, Nypsy, Alice Hattercandy, & Recchinon.**

**Also, I happen to be following their stories….ahem….hint, hint. And if any of you out there haven't read 'em, get your butts over there and do it now, and then review! I promise, you won't be sorry!**

**Thanks for everything!**

**Child of the Ashes**


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: Does anyone even read these things?

* * *

Chapter Nine

Ichigo walked himself home, feeling an odd combination of end-of-the-day-relaxation and being inexplicably pissed off.

It wasn't that he had started to _enjoy_ walking Inoue home every day. He just didn't like his routine being switched up. He had fallen into a rather comfortable pattern as of late, and it had absolutely _nothing _to do with spending so much time with an attractive and unconditionally supportive classmate. He shoved his fists down into his pockets with a frown.

Nothing at all.

In fact, he was _happy_ for the extra free time.

He kicked a rock that had just happened to have the bad providence to be lying across his path. It skittered across the ground before pinging and disappearing down a storm drain.

There hadn't been any new attacks in the past several days, which was practically a miracle. And even his hollow had decided to be silent. So by all accounts, it really was a good day, except…

Damn it. He scowled, looking for something or someone else to kick.

He was used to doing things alone; he _liked_ doing things alone. And he sure as hell wasn't _worried_ about her. She had managed to walk home just fine every day before he had come along. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

_But_…his mind appended, she also had a knack for getting into trouble.

He supposed he could always call her—

He sighed, cutting off the thought. When had he gotten so _lame_?

It wasn't like they were going out or anything, besides it was good for her to be making new friends, even if it was that little blonde haired monster. She needed someone to be able to talk to and he was just no good at that stuff. He liked problems that could be pounded out with a fist; the kind that could be solved using the pointy end of Zangetsu.

Besides, even when she had needed him for that kind of support, he had been no good. There were just some battles that he couldn't fight for her…

He felt an uncomfortable curl of guilt over _those_ memories.

Orihime who was always there for everyone else; who's faith in her friends moved any obstacle. The girl that had lost one thing after the next, yet always seemed to have more to give. He curled a fist tighter in his pocket.

She of all people had been abandoned in her moment of grief… maybe they were still abandoning her…

That thought alone stopped him in his tracks.

Other pedestrians on the curb walked around him giving him curious and exasperated looks, but he didn't care about that. He let his scowl deepen, thinking about the hunt for the shinigami fugitive.

It had been almost a year ago. The disappearances had started in Tokyo and he had heard about it on the news, just like everyone else. Two dozen missing kids was a big deal. When it moved to Karakura, they realized it hadn't been what anyone had imagined.

The fugitive was a master at evasion and hiding his spiritual presence using his _zanpaktou's riatsu-_desorption properties. Physically, he was nothing special, but no one could even get close without having their riatsu stolen. Soul society's best efforts were turned into a mockery. He slipped through even the most carefully laid traps; toying with them; taunting them with every abduction.

The tension had been high, and everyone felt the bitter sting each time a new child vanished. Every loss had been personal, but Orihime had grown up in a rough home, and something about the senseless violence had seemed to strike a chord in her. She had wound like a spring.

When they found the fugitive, they also found they mutilated and rotting bodies of over thirty children, from infants to elementary aged. She had been the one to find the place where he had taken them apart, piece by piece.

And he had laughed… composed and cruel as he told them why and _how_… And Inoue just _snapped_.

Watching her move was like watching a tidal wave in slow motion. Her spiritual pressure had plunged, before rising to a frightening level and then there was golden light everywhere. It felt like her pressure, except not at all. It was like she had broken somehow, as if something vital had been twisted until it was unrecognizable.

She unmade him. She unmade all of it, the fugitive, the warehouse, the bodies and everything around it. Rejecting all but the petrified souls of the children, huddled together, still bleeding, even in death. Everything had just come apart, like it had been burned away without fire. It had all happened in the blink of an eye, yet it had still seemed almost agonizingly slow.

When it was finished, she simply collapsed, sobbing in a way that had been terrible to hear. He had just stared, frozen with shock; everyone had.

Everyone except, Kisuke.

He had simply walked up and knelt by her, offering a shoulder and rubbing her back as they all looked on.

That had always bothered him afterwards. That Urahara had been the one to move first. All of her closest friends had stood motionless around her. _He_ had stood motionless... and she had shattered into a million sparkling, heartbroken pieces. He hadn't even known how to _begin_ putting all of those pieces back together again… so he watched as someone else had.

Ichigo had always wanted to ask Urahara just what it was that he knew, what he had known even then, but doing so would violate Inoue's privacy. And he wouldn't do that, not that he thought he might actually get a straight answer. He was sure he wouldn't.

He turned around and began going back the way he had come. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. He _hated_ feeling guilty, so he usually made damn sure he didn't have anything to feel guilty about, but he guessed the past was a tricky thing that way.

Maybe if he tried feeling out her riatsu. It would make finding her a lot easier. Then he could keep his distance and still know if anything happened.

Shaking his head again, he frowned.

He felt like a stalker.

_Dammit, _he really had gotten lame…

* * *

Orihime watched the stubby little blonde pigtails bounce happily on the back of her tutor's head and tried not to feel sorry for herself. Instead, she determined to focus on the girl's energetic cheerfulness, as if it could transfer through the air and into her by sheer force of will.

Inoue smiled, watching her bound excitedly from shop window to shop window.

In spite of her own bad mood, she had to admit it was nice to walk the younger girl home, even if it had meant turning down Kurosaki-kun when he had shown up for her.

She wrinkled her nose. Orihime knew Rukia had meant well by telling him that she was lonely, but he had insisted on walking her home every day since. And she didn't want him to feel obligated. She hated being that kind of a nuisance.

Up ahead, Yuri peered into a toy store with a look of awe. Orihime stopped beside her to look in as well. A myriad of toys littered the store front widow, in colorful rows and sets, little soldier men and princesses with white unicorn ponies. Behind those, there were shelves stacked with water guns and race cars and more toys than she could count. It was every child's dream.

Orihime laughed at the wistful look on Yuri's face, and reminded herself that even if she was considered a genius or some sort of child prodigy, she was still just a little girl in a strange place.

"Do you want to go inside?" She offered, as if she were afraid that this new side of Yuri might crumble up and blow away on the next gust of wind.

Her tutor turned to look at her with poorly disguised excitement. "Only if you do..."

Orihime smiled and took the girl by the hand and into the toy store. She really was tired and she had gobs of homework to do, but she knew she couldn't do anything else. It was like the girl had never seen toys before…

They had looked and played inside the store for over an hour when Orihime noticed it was getting dark outside. And she still had no idea where Yuri lived or how long it would take to get there. So reluctantly, they had left and Orihime felt little bittersweet prickles of guilt all the way out.

They emerged from the store and Orihime yawned widely, wondering what time it was. The younger girl continued her energetic escapade between store fronts. Really, it was like the more drained Orihime became the more energy the little girl seemed to have. But she guessed that's just the way kids were.

She yawned again, and this time Yuri turned from her window shopping to give her a worried look. Orihime stifled it with one hand, having already heard all of the lectures on how important sleep was to brain function and the immune system. She wasn't in a rush to earn more.

It was true that she had been more tired than usual lately and it hadn't gone unnoticed by anyone. Not that it could, when she fell asleep at her desk and started talking nonsense. That had been the embarrassing highlight of her day. But at least she hadn't drooled, even if she had gotten detention.

She wasn't missing sleep on purpose... It was just that she had begun to toss and turn lately, and there just wasn't _enough rest_… She sighed looking down into concerned eyes.

The other girls frown deepened.

"What's wrong, Yuri-chan?" Even though she already knew what the girl would say.

"Are you sick?" She sniffed, once again reminding Orihime of small and feisty pup. "You smell sick."

Inoue blinked.

"I smell bad?" Maybe it was a good thing Kurosaki-kun hadn't walked her home after all.

"You know what I mean…" Yuri waved a dismissive hand.

She really didn't. "I'm not sick."

"But you're sad…" She concluded softly, instantly changing the direction of the conversation.

Orihime stopped walking. "Who told you that?"

Yuri turned and looked up at her, big reddish-brown eyes looking into grey, and for just a moment, Orihime thought that she looked much older than an eleven year old girl. She found she couldn't hold that gaze.

She looked down at the sidewalk, thinking again that it really had gotten late.

"No one told me. You only got half of your answers right and you've been yawning all day… and I had to throw more chalk than normal…"

Orihime pouted at the last statement. Throwing chalk was Yuri's special way of getting her attention when she dozed off, and it usually left little powdery white dots all over her.

"I've just been…distracted." She admitted, beginning to follow the smaller girl again.

Yuri rolled her eyes.

_Ok, she had probably deserved that._ "It's just that my best friend left…and it's really hard to be all alone…"

The confession was surprisingly difficult to make, even though she hadn't thought about it before it came tumbling out of her mouth. But it was true, she missed Tatsuki desperately. Her apartment felt lonelier now whenever she thought about her best friend not being within walking distance.

"She didn't seem all that special to me…" The younger girl said sullenly.

Orihime smiled a little and indulged the childish jealousy of her tutor. "You never even met her, Yuri-chan. I'm sure you would have liked each other."

Yuri blinked, and then nodded quickly with wide eyes making Inoue's smile widen.

She really was a nice girl under her condescending exterior. It must be difficult to travel to a strange country at such a young age. Of course the girl probably knew exactly how Orihime felt…

She stiffened at the thought, feeling guilty she hadn't realized it sooner.

She was being tutored by the _exchange student_. She was hundreds of miles away from her home and her family. And she hadn't even asked if the younger girl had made any friends at school or if she needed help finding her way around town. Yuri-chan could probably relate to her situation better than anyone right now.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Orihime couldn't stand it any longer.

"Yuri-chan? Do you miss your family?"

The girl was quietly contemplative before she responded. "I don't know. I never really had one. So…I guess, more than anything, I miss the idea of my family…warmth, understanding, things like that."

Orihime felt the hair on her arms stand up. It was like the smaller girl had peered through a window in her head and looked into her innermost thoughts. Her own feelings about her family were mixed and confused, but she knew the truth of the words the girl spoke. She blinked back tears and willed them fiercely to go away.

Yuri looked back again. "That isn't the only reason, is it?"

Inoue was starting to wonder at the girl's startling perception.

"No…" She continued at the sight of the little blonde's expectant look. "There's this other friend…" She should probably make this age appropriate. "A guy friend, and well, I've liked him a really long time…But I don't think he really likes me the same way." She finished dismally.

"How come?"

"Uh, I'm not sure… lots of reasons probably. Like maybe I'm too clumsy…or I'm not very pretty…" Maybe this conversation was a bad idea. It certainly wasn't helping her self-esteem _at all_…

"Are you kidding? Your boobs are _huge!_" Yuri said holding her arms way out from her chest.

Orihime choked on air.

"What?" She spluttered. "Yuri! That's hardly a nice thing to say at your age."

"I don't know what you mean, I'm plenty old." She stated.

Orihime rolled her eyes. The younger girl was only trying to distract her from the sad path of her thoughts.

"So, which house is yours?" She asked, recognizing they were standing in front of a large gated housing district.

Yuri shrugged. "I can get there from here. You didn't have to walk me."

"Of course I did! A girl your age shouldn't be out alone at night." She huffed, prepared to tell her exactly what she thought of that, when a new voice spoke up from behind her.

"There you are, Yuri-chan. I was wondering if you would ever come back."

Orihime turned to see who had spoken and lost her breath.

Standing a few feet behind her was an unbelievably attractive man. He was probably a few years older than her with short, tousled hair the same light blonde as Yuri's. She wondered vaguely if they were related. His eyes were a stunning ruby red color that Orihime didn't think was possible for a human, but here he stood in front of her, in expensive looking clothing, as if he were some sort of supermodel or movie star.

From the corner of her eye she saw Yuri spin around and stumble back a step. "Shan-jing!"

"Yuri, we've been looking for you _everywhere_." He looked over at Orihime with his piercing red eyes and gave her a slow smile.

She could feel herself melting. There was just something about his eyes. Orihime was staring shamelessly. She knew she was, but she couldn't help it. He was gorgeous.

"Oww!" She gasped, snatching her hand to her chest. She looked at the smaller girl. "You bit me…and it _hurt_."

She rubbed at the sore spot where the girl had broken the skin.

"You're not paying attention! We need to go." And with that, Orihime noticed that the smaller girl had begun backing up, as if waiting for her to follow.

_What's with her…?_

She looked back to the handsome man to see if he could make sense of Yuri's strange behavior…and a scream tore out of her mouth.

He no longer held a form that could be called human. Patches of blondish-grey fur clung to his face and arms and all of the exposed skin she could see. A canine snout with sharp teeth sat in the middle of his face, and he smelled like a corpse. Behind her Yuri yanked on her arm, dragging her back. Despite the girl's small stature, she was strong and Orihime stumbled several feet from the force of the tug. She spun around closing her hand around Yuri's and ran for all she was worth.

The younger girl outpaced her with little effort and Orihime got the feeling that she was holding back for her sake. Behind her she could hear the panting breath and scratching footfalls of pursuit, then it stopped, and the eeriness of that made her turn to look over her shoulder.

There was no one there.

"Look out!" Yuri yelled, panic making her voice shrill.

Orihime turned around to see a hand reach out of the shadows and close around her throat, bringing her to a full stop in a fraction of a second. She tried to pull in a gasping breath, but her airway was sealed off.

She looked for the smaller girl, wanting to tell her to run and not to worry about her, but it turned out that she needn't have bothered anyway. The other girl hadn't stopped. Orihime registered the flash of pale pink disappearing into the night, through the grey spots clouding her vision.

_Please…please, get away…_

The hand around her throat loosened and she pulled in a lung full of warm summer night air. She could feel the humidity making her hair stick to her forehead and the sides of her face.

She was spun around to face her attacker, and to her dismay, he was once again beautiful. She wished he hadn't changed back. Because now, even knowing it was a trick, even knowing a monster lurked under the guise of exquisiteness, she felt her breath hitch in her chest. Her eyes acted without her consent to take in every flawless feature. Every grateful breath of air brought with it a pleasingly seductive masculine scent she couldn't identify. Even the sharp nails digging into her throat felt frighteningly sensual.

She shivered.

He smiled, lips curving over perfect teeth. "Do you like it?"

He snorted. "I already know you do… I hate running. The chase isn't in my blood, I'm afraid…. You seem to have gotten pretty close with our little Yuri-chan." He changed the subject abruptly, while looking into her eyes, searching. "You're not a normal human, are you?"

His random jumps from topic to topic were making her thoughts muddled.

She knew she shouldn't feel this way. She wanted to fight the pleasure that coursed through her at his acknowledgment, as well as the pressure of his presence on her mind, but it was hard.

Orihime tried to recall what it was that had repulsed her so much earlier, but she couldn't seem to remember. She needed to get away. He was going to kill her and she was just going to stand there and let him.

"What's your name?"

His pleasing breath fanned over her face and her eyes fluttered, face turning up as if she were waiting to be kissed. He smiled again, lowering his head like he might just decide to indulge her. Orihime opened her mouth to answer and something clicked in her mind, an image of Yuri's sharp little teeth against her skin. And she knew, even as he lowered his head further, how to stop him.

She bit him, sinking her teeth into the hand at her throat until she tasted blood.

He drew back with a hiss and backhanded her, all pretenses of politeness gone. Her ears rang with the force of the blow and she went down hard, crumpling into a heap on the ground. Orihime thought she might have blacked out, because the next thing she heard was a strangled cry from a few feet away.

She shook her head, trying to clear her vision and stand at the same time; stumbling helplessly, until a pair of arms closed around her. He had her again, she knew it, but this time she could move. The bite had broken whatever mesmerizing effect he had, and she wasn't going back under.

She thrashed in a blind panic, not being able see him, but still clawing at him with her nails. She was pleased to feel them catch on flesh. He was yelling at her; trying to catch her wrists, but she knew the danger of looking him in the eyes. She squeezed hers shut, trying to block him out.

He managed to latch on, restraining her against the hard muscle of his chest; forcing her still by holding her arms to her sides.

_No! _

She couldn't move her arms to bring a shield between them. He was so much stronger than she was. It wasn't even a fight at all. And now she couldn't _move._

* * *

Ichigo was furious, beyond angry.

He had arrived to see a man pull back his arm and slap Inoue hard across the face, dropping her like a stone.

He hadn't even announced himself as he swept forward and cut the blonde man's arm off. Even now it lay in a pool of blood a few yards away. The man disappeared faster than Ichigo had been able to even spin around and so he had turned to steady a frantic Inoue, only to be attacked. He called out for her to stop, but she only fought harder.

She managed to claw his cheek, while he floundered trying to keep the blade edge of Zangetsu away from her flailing arms and he could feel the burn of scraped flesh. He ditched the sword to grab both of her arms and stop her blind panicky swipes, forcing her still against the flat surface of his chest.

This new side of Inoue was scaring him. It wasn't like her to fight like this. She was hysterical. He wrapped his arms around her, willing her to come back to herself.

_Just what the fuck did that son of a bitch do? _

She continued struggling against him and before he could register what was happening, before he could pull back, she sank her teeth into his throat.

Dark light flashed behind his eyes and he felt his hollow reaching up to take control away from him.

Ichigo struggled. He struggled for all he was worth, mentally and physically, trying to restrain his body from acting outside of his control. The overwhelming desire to push her up against the wall and rut her like an animal came at him out of nowhere. It stabbed into him dark and insistent, and his hands gripping her tightened.

His hold on his consciousness wavered, his vision going black. Then all he could feel was the intense pleasure-pain of her teeth and lips on his throat.

He needed to get away from her; to get her to stop clenching her teeth on the flesh of his neck. He grabbed her shoulders and tugged at her sharply, pulling her back, feeling her teeth tear free. Then he pushed her away, back from him and his losing battle with his hollow.

* * *

As Orihime fell toward the concrete, it took her less than an instant to register the bright orange hair of the boy in front of her, before her back was making painful contact with the ground. She blinked, trying to regain her breath and figure out what was happening.

Her brain was in slow motion, processing everything bit by bit. The handsome man was gone. She realized now that he had been gone for some time. She didn't know how long. Ichigo was there. He was bleeding. She had bitten him.

She thought that she should feel guilty, but her emotions seemed to be frazzled and inaccurate. He looked like he was still in pain and she wanted to help him. Ask him if he was ok, or try to heal him.

_That's it, I should heal him… _

At last her mind had something to grab onto, and it did so with a vengeance. She tried to gather her feet under her. It took longer than it should have, but by the time she was standing, her head felt much clearer. She winced a little at a throbbing pain in her temple, but it could wait. She didn't let it distract her as she took several shaky steps forward, studying Ichigo and trying to figure out where he was hurt most.

His head was cradled in his hands. She had to move them aside to see his face, but as soon as she did she regretted it.

Her senses registered the lash of dark riatsu even as the dim light of the street reflected off of the bleached white of bone mask.

She didn't even have time to gasp, before he was on her, gathering her up and away in an instant. Her brain was desperately trying to keep up. She shivered in his hold, not sure where he was taking her or why. They were moving so quickly she couldn't make out the surroundings. She thought about struggling the way she had before, but they were so high up now that even if she did she would have nowhere to go but down.

She clenched her fists, trying to keep from shaking in fear. This was it, the thing that she had both hated and feared, and she wasn't ready to face it... She didn't know if she would ever be ready.

* * *

**A/N**

**I know it's mean to leave it there, but since shit kind of hits the fan in the next chapter, I really had to…I'm sorry!**

**Anyhow, review people! **

**And always feel free to tell me how badly you think I'm screwing things up, really. I will probably, mostly, kind of, very much appreciate it, I think…**


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: Standard

Warnings: Strong language and sexual references!

* * *

Chapter Ten

Orihime had barely registered her feet contacting the solid concrete rooftop before being released and she stumbled for a second trying to right herself. The corner edge and the steep drop beyond loomed like an open mouth in her peripheral vision.

_Well, nowhere to run_.

She knew better than to think it was a coincidence.

At this height, the warm night air flew unrestricted over the buildings. It whipped her hair into her face and back again before she could shove it out of her eyes. Here in the open she was exposed and vulnerable. The need to locate the danger was like a flare against the fog clouding her mind, burning with blinding clarity. She had to know where he was; had to see what direction he might attack from.

She spotted him on the other side of the roof. Cast in the glow of an orange security light, he stood watching her; motionless, except for the breeze that threw his shihakushou around him like a dark aura. The floodlight's glow lit his hair, turning it to flame and glinting on the blade edge of Zangetsu. It made him look predatory and demonic.

A shiver worked its way down her spine, despite the hot night. And the part of Orihime's brain that was still capable of rational logic told her that there was _no way_ a person should have been able to move that fast. Reaching a single hand up, he pushed aside the mask and it vanished in a puff of dark red riatsu.

She stiffened when she saw his face, surprised that he looked so much like Kurosaki-kun and yet, not at all. Even this far away, she could clearly make out the intensity of the look that was studying her.

Orihime stood silently, trying not to breathe or blink or do anything that might set him off. She knew he was volatile, reacting to the slightest provocation. Fighting another shiver, she clenched her fists instead, digging fingernails into her palms until in hurt. That was good. Pain was good. It would help her stay in the moment and drown out the panic in her mind screaming that she was going to die.

_What now…? _

_Was_ he really going to kill her? It didn't seem like it. He hadn't moved or made any attempt to threaten her. Not that that comforted her at all, considering how fast he _could_ move. Yet, he still stood there, looking silently pleased, about who-knows-what, and giving off the intimidating air of a lazy yet slightly sociopathic tiger; the kind that might bite your head off, without notice, just for fun, or to see if people _really do_ taste like chicken.

Although to be fair, he had rescued her in the first place, hadn't he? Or had that been Kurosaki-kun? She wasn't sure… It had seemed like Kurosaki-kun, but… he had been off, different. His riatsu had been so _dark_… that's why she hadn't realized right away that it was him holding on to her.

She shook off the guilt of attacking him. It wasn't the time to be thinking of that. Not when real danger was staring her down like an executioner.

She licked her lips.

W_hy _was he just _standing there_?

Her anxiety was crushing her like a weight on her chest. At least if he did attack her, she wouldn't have to keep thinking about _when_ he might do it.

She couldn't read anything in his eyes. That's what bothered her the most. Ichigo's eyes were expressive. They contained a world of thoughts if you knew how to look at them, but the Hollow's eyes were dark as obsidian and held a wicked glint. They gave nothing but surface emotion. They hid his thoughts as effectively as any mask she had ever seen, human or hollow.

The wind whirled into her face again and she had to shut her eyes against the sting of it. When she opened them, she could have reached out and touched him.

She gasped, taking a step back, before remembering the ledge behind her. She clenched her hands tighter, not sure if it was to stop from reflexively throwing up a shield, or to stop a scream. She had a distinct feeling that either would have been a mistake.

Then he tilted his head to the side and smiled, and it scared her more than anything so far, because Ichigo _did not_ smile like that.

* * *

He stood watching her scrutinize him from across the roof top. She trembled once or twice and he could practically hear her thoughts, her fears, and even her goddamn baseless hopes. And _those_, he knew, were so deeply ingrained in her she probably couldn't even help it.

It was _delicious_…

She clenched her hands tightly, and he could sense, more than see, her blood flowing. His eyes dropped to her small white fists. He wanted to look at it, and wondered remotely where that thought had come from. He knew what blood looked like. He had seen lots; spilled lots.

No, it was more about the idea of _her_ blood and the cutting of her own flesh that appealed to him. And since he always did what he wanted, there was no reason to second guess himself now.

When he came to a stop in front of her, she staggered back, clearly hoping he would have stayed on his side of the roof. He took a moment to measure and enjoy the startled fear flashing through her eyes, watching their light momentarily flicker, before letting his gaze appreciatively travel the rest of her.

Her fists tightened again and he knew there would be more blood, but she held her ground, bit her lip and stiffened her neck looking every bit the martyred, if still yet frightened, princess her name implied.

The wind whipped her hair around her slender frame and heaving chest and for a second he was distracted at the play of light against each strand, even though he knew that was the thought of his other half. He felt his own smile.

Well, if she was going to stand there and offer herself up like some sort of royal virginal sacrifice, he would be more than happy to play the hungry dragon.

She flinched when he took her wrist, but made no attempt to move away or take it back. _Smart girl_… He _really_ didn't want to have to tear it off. Mostly, because it had taken a bit of his hollow pride to save her in the first place, which was something he didn't do. Well, that is, if it had been anyone else, but this one was his; his that he had saved, at his own expense. _Repeatedly_. It was a matter of supremacy. Any other stupid fuck that thought they had a right to kill what he had saved, had to die, preferably in a demoralizing and painful way.

And then there was also the fact, that she just looked _better_ with it attached.

He pulled her hand up to just below his chin, palm first, and he felt a little tickle of pride when she uncurled her fingers and watched him with stormy, uncertain eyes. He rewarded her with a wicked grin, showing his teeth.

It wasn't much blood, hardly any at all, just a few drops in the palm and on her fingers. It was mesmerizing though, deep red against the pale flesh of her palm. He toyed with the idea of drawing in it, before he gave in to a much stronger impulse.

He watched her eyes as he drew her index finger into his mouth and sucked the blood from it, resisting the urge to bite down. A deep growl rumbled low in his chest at the taste of her and he swallowed it back, looking up into her eyes through his counterpart's orange bangs, gaging her reaction.

Her eyes were cloudy, her emotions in turmoil. He took his time to decipher them out, as he moved on to the next finger. She was shocked and definitely discomforted. Not by his actions though, he was a monster, and she expected him to act like one. More than likely, it was her own response that had her so bothered.

He could see it there, beyond the frightened exterior. Beyond a dozen other twisted and convoluted emotions, there was a flicker of desire. She didn't feel loved or safe or cherished or any of the other things she had been taught equaled desire and yet, she _wanted_ anyway. She was young and chaste. He could tell his princess was un-touched.

Her body was a swirl of hormones. She didn't understand it, he knew, and it was incredibly provocative.

He released her last finger and she seemed relieved, until he lowered his mouth to her palm. She tried to pull back then, very slowly, almost as if she expected him not to notice as long as she was quiet about it. He wanted to laugh. Instead he let out a growl, a low, one-time warning sort of deal. He added a glare for good measure and she went still.

He lowered his head back to her palm and licked away the last traces of blood, letting his tongue linger longer than was strictly necessary before dropping her hand. It shook by her side, giving him a smug sense of satisfaction.

Prey could be crushed, killed, and mutilated any number of ways, all while they cowered, trembling in fear. But to be able to make them_ want it_; to wrap them up and twist them around, until up was down and sideways was crossways, until in the end, when they _know_ what's coming and they _wanted_ it anyway. _That_ was the work of a master.

He smiled, realizing that she was working herself up for something. He waited, flexing his neck; relishing the dull ache of his own abused flesh.

"What...?"

She paused, swallowed and tried again. "What do you want with me?"

He answered almost as soon as the question was out, anticipating that she would ask something along those lines.

"Now that's just rude, _Hime-chan_. Isn't it polite to at least say thank you after someone's just saved your life?"

He made sure to lace his voice full of saccharine sweetness, giving her a smile that made her shiver and drop her eyes. He watched her stare at her feet, her brow wrinkling in confusion at his words, struggling between good etiquette and common sense. But he didn't want or need to hear it. He had done it for his own motivations, after all.

"Your brother would be so disappointed."

Her head snapped up; anger flashing in her eyes.

A small flicker of excitement shot down his spine at her infuriated look. Usually her anger came and went quickly, like it hadn't even happened at all. It wasn't easy to get her riled up. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. This would be so much more fun if she fought back.

Although, it seemed she knew right away that he was baiting her. She looked away, and he narrowed his eyes, not particularly liking the fact that he had been dismissed so easily. Maybe he should step back, before he was tempted to smash her pretty face.

But she was already continuing.

"Why did you do that? You saved me. And before…that was you wasn't it? On the dome…?" She trailed off, unable to clear her thoughts when he was so close. She shook herself and tried meeting his dark eyes.

"Why?"

He snorted. "Are you complaining?"

He turned toward the edge of the building and tilted his head to watch her out of the corner of his eye.

She frowned, wrinkling her nose in a way he knew the king secretly liked, but still not answering the question. He concluded reasonably quickly, that he wasn't a very patient person. He stretched out one arm, almost idly and pushed her sideways off the side of the building. At the last moment, he caught her by the wrist, letting her dangle mid-air.

She screamed before realizing that she hadn't fallen to her death and did the one thing that could make the situation worse; she looked down. Gasping and panting, she tried to grab at his other arm, pleading with her eyes. He smiled. She really _could_ be entertaining.

"Is there something you wanted, _Hime-chan_?"

"P-pull me up!" She looked down at the eighty foot drop again before squeezing her eyes shut.

"What's the magic word?" He looked at her sternly, making sure to take his time. After all, it wouldn't do for his princess not to appreciate him thoroughly.

"Ah…Please….? Please!"

He hauled her back up and let her go, not caring whether she had her balance or not. She didn't. She warbled over the edge before grabbing at the only available anchor, his shihakushou. She blinked a few times, as if she were shocked to have been manhandled in such a way.

He couldn't decide whether a smile or a growl would bother her more, so he settled for an insufferable smirk. It seemed to have the desired effect, because she blinked again before adopting an annoyed scowl.

Once again, the fire of her irritation brought small stabs of desire down him. He watched her catch her lip between her teeth and he itched to know what biting that full lip felt like. He frowned at the idea, wondering if it had really been his.

Hollows didn't kiss. They didn't make love or fuck or whatever humans called it. They just didn't. A hollow was full of only the basest drives. And for most, there was _nothing_ but the hunger, everything else was just a device to achieve that mean.

And yet, he _did_ want to. _Intensely_.

He tilted his head, in silent contemplation, but found no answers readily available. _Tch. Whatever... _He always did whatever the hell he wanted, anyway, besides… _his_ princess was special. It wasn't like she would break from a little rough handling.

It had taken him a long time to figure out whatit was about her that had caught his attention. At first he thought that it was because the king wanted her. He thought he had just been helplessly pulled into another one of _his_ desires. Made sense, he supposed. His other half was still stronger in will, after all. So he had resisted on principle.

But he had waited, and he had watched her… and he had finally isolated exactly what it was that had him so fixated.

It was the _purity._

Her heart was pure, and as fluid as light or water or air. All of the things humans never bothered themselves to think about, but still everything they couldn't live without. Her heart gave under pressure, but it flowed back, undamaged. For a creature like him, it was the equivalent of a feast.

He knew how to take his enemies' lives; begging or brave, it didn't matter. Mighty or weak, it all looked the same on the ground covered in blood and defecation. But _his_ princess was special. Her life couldn't be taken, because she gave it freely and that was her strength. Not power, because power came from pain; it came from suffering and the desire to end that suffering at any cost. That was fundamentally what made a hollow, and what made a shinigami for that matter. Having power was easy. S_trength_ came from an unbreakable heart. He could break her body, but her spirit was untouchable.

He licked his lips slowly.

That was the truth his retarded alter-ego knew, even if he didn't _know_ he knew it. The other one had known it also, the fourth espada, that stupid winged fuck he had slaughtered. It had been on his dying breath, those words. And that was the truth that Aizen had realized. He had even tested it; observed it up close, just not too close, because in the end, her power was subtle, but fearsome. Her power stepped on the toes of god, to create and obliterate; to accept or reject. His princess was _special_. And that alone made her worthwhile.

But he would sure as hell be damned, before he started spouting that sort of poetic sounding shit.

* * *

Orihime clutched at him finally getting her balance back. She couldn't believe he had just casually tossed her off a building. And just to get back at her for not being _properly_ grateful. That was just…_childish_. And now he had the audacity to stand there looking amused about her human frailty of needing _both_ feet on the ground to be able to stand; something he apparently didn't need, considering his ability to fight midair. _Stupid hollow. _

And why were her hands tingling?

She looked down to see them still firmly twisted in his clothes and against his person. She snatched them back, hiding them behind her. _Dumb hands, what were you thinking? He could have bitten you off._ Not that he looked like he wanted to. He was staring at her lip between her teeth. It didn't seem to bother him at all that she had caught him looking at her lips, either.

He extended one slightly clawed finger under her chin, and used its sharp tip to draw her closer. She swallowed, feeling butterflies flutter deep inside her belly.

_What…? He's not going to…_

He moved forward with methodical deliberateness, as if conducting an experiment. Her stomach coiled in a funny way that made goose bumps on her arms, and she wasn't certain if she shouldn't be doing a better job of resisting his attentions. Not that she thought it would do her any good if he had his mind set. Her body gave another involuntary shiver as he tilted her head up and leaned in to her.

He caught her lip between his teeth and almost painful tingles of electricity shot through her lips and down into her chest to that tight, warm place in her belly. He sucked it and sparks flashed behind her eyes. She drew in a sharp breath, eyes flying open, and she wasn't sure when she had closed them.

She pulled away and took the only step back left, before coming up short.

She had to get away. She might not have a lot of experience, but she knew feelings like this were _dangerous_. But there was nowhere left to go, unless she wanted to jump… and if he tried something like that again, she might need to seriously start considering it.

She stared at him wide-eyed.

He looked slightly dazed as if he hadn't known to expect that, before his face adopted a scowl and for a moment he looked so much like her Ichigo that she felt tears sting her eyes. He was bothered by the kiss. He hadn't said it; hadn't moved, but she had seen Ichigo frown like that.

Maybe, he just had too many unexpected feelings to process. He was a hollow. His way of dealing with unexpected things could usually be expedited by killing everyone involved. So it shouldn't have been surprising that he wasn't sure what to do about something like_ this_.

Wind ruffled orange bangs fell over his eyes and she itched to push them back. She didn't.

She felt bad for him. She wanted to say something, tell him it would be okay, even if he _had_ bullied her and frightened her a little… Well, a lot actually, but she had had worse; had _forgiven_ worse.

And besides, if she tilted her head a certain way, he looked terribly vulnerable.

She didn't realize she was reaching out to him until his head snapped up and something violent and ugly flashed through his eyes. Then he was gone and the wind his body had been shielding her from blasted her full in the face. It made her splutter and wobble for a moment before she stumbled forward, away from the ledge and any chance of an early and accidental grave.

She collapsed to her knees, shaking from overwrought emotions, most of which she was sure she would need heavy therapy just to identify. She looked around, wondering if he was still there somewhere, but found the rooftop completely barren of any Kurosaki-kun shaped objects.

She replayed what had happened and the look he had given her. Had he been upset that she had wanted to help him? It seemed like it.

She frowned. _What kind of sense did that make?_

He had pushed every button she had, clearly enjoying it. He had practically kidnapped her… insulted her brother's memory... licked her blood—which she was not going to think about again, _ever_... thrown her off the building….and then kissed her.

None of it made any sense.

Then, as soon as she had decided he might not be a lost cause, bad and terrifying, yes, but maybe not unredeemably evil, he got mad and left her here.

…_And where was here?_

She didn't even see a stairwell. She scrunched up her nose, wishing she could yell or stomp her feet and throw a fit. She wouldn't', but she _really_ wanted to.

_And_ he _scared_ her.

She didn't even want to _think_ about what he might do if they ever met again. That look he had given her wasn't really a confidence booster. So far the only predictable thing about him was that he was guaranteed to do the most _unpredictable_ thing possible.

_Well, that figures…_

And how the heck was she supposed to get off this building?

This time she did stomp her foot, telling herself that the next time she saw him, she would tell him _exactly_ what she thought of being left up here. She edged around the building for a half hour before she found a fire escape that she could safely jump down to, and even after she had climbed all the way to the ground she was still fuming.

He hadn't even played fair.

Orihime sighed, looking for a street sign. She was having one of those terribly disconcerting feelings that she had forgotten something important, but after a few minutes of trying to remember, she gave up and opted to head home. It would take her at least thirty minutes to walk all the way back to her apartment. Not that she was sure she could just go home…If Ichigo's hollow was in control, then who knew what he might be up to.

She frowned and considered going to the Shouten before pushing the idea to the back of her mind. Ichigo was usually very private with his hollow problems. He probably wouldn't want that unless there was no other available option. She reached out with her mind, trying to feel any trace of the darker spiritual pressure of his hollow and was surprised to find it close. Very close.

She looked around and wasn't even slightly surprised that she didn't see anything. She wrinkled her nose and began to walk, hoping to get a better feel of exactly where he was. It moved and she realized that it was coming from above her somewhere. Was he following her?

The spiritual pressure was faint, almost like he was purposely suppressing it, which figured; otherwise everyone would have felt it and come running.

She wondered if they had. She wasn't sure what she would say if they asked her. She didn't want to betray Ichigo's confidence if he didn't want others knowing about this. And it wasn't really like she could just go blabbing about his hollow stealing kisses from her.

Her face flamed up into a blush.

She shoved the thought away, determined not to think on it and tried concentrating on the task at hand.

Although, it turned out that she needn't have bothered, because after a few minutes she realized that he _was_ following her. She never figured out exactly where he was, but he stayed behind her until she reached her apartment and was gone before she had locked her door behind her.

She let out a long sigh after she was once again tucked safely back into her apartment and tried to let herself relax. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since lunch that afternoon. She was halfway through a leftover rice ball, when she remembered what it was that had been bugging her. Her food fell from her loosened fingers and bounced across the floor.

Yuri-chan.

She had run off after Orihime had been caught. There was no way to know where she was now or if she was safe. What if the handsome man had found her? There wasn't any way to know. Orihime began to pace a short panicked line between her living room and kitchen. She needed Kurosaki-kun, but…

She grabbed the ends of her hair, pulling it in frustration. Why wasn't she better at these things? Hadn't she already said she would get stronger so that she wouldn't be so useless in these situations?

She stopped walking. It didn't matter. She might not be a very good fighter, but that didn't matter either. There was no way she could just leave a little girl alone to fend for herself.

She went to her closet, and pulled out her coat and her best athletic shoes. She would look for her alone if she had to. Kurosaki-kun had his own problems to deal with; she wouldn't be able to lean on him this time. She locked the door behind her and turned, heading down her stairs and back into the night.

* * *

A/N

So… I've been wrestling with where the story will go and if you didn't notice we didn't quite hit an M rating on this, and to be quite honest it's probably for the best. Although, I had started out with those intentions, but at this point I think it would have just seemed forced. Anyhow, I revised some things and rearranged and blah, blah, blah I'm boring myself talking about it. Bottom line, if you want to know what's going to happen, you will just have to wait and see. Capiche?

Fantastic!

Thanks again to everyone that reviewed –

**Recchinon- Lol, I know you didn't say it sucked; I was taking artistic license :) So sorry to make you wait for the next chapter! I'm seriously in your debt for all the awesome feedback I get from you. You are the best! Also, how about that volcano? How did **_**that**_** go?**

**Not So Anonymous- Thank so much for your honest feedback! It's good for me to hear that I might not be as clear as I mean to be. I'll try to answer all the questions you had. I didn't skip a chapter; I just think maybe I wasn't clear about the passage of time. At the beginning of chap 8 several days had past. Ichi makes a note of this, but it was a very small one. **

**As for the kidnappings, this is something that has been alluded to in almost every chapter. However, once again, perhaps I was unclear. **

**And then last, Yuri is the tutor that was assigned by the teacher back in chap 6. They also had a session together in that chap. Now I will say that they are not best friends. Orihime is simply being her friendly self **_**and**_** she is dealing with a younger child here. She is simply talking down to her like most adults talk to small children. In fact, if you remember, she begins the walk in a bad mood because she would much rather be walking with Ichigo. **

**So, yeah, I should have been clearer about that stuff. I might go back in at a later point and revise some of that stuff to be more apparent. Thanks again for all your comments, because they are very helpful!**

**Halfdemonfan- Oh, my… you make me blush… I love getting reviews like yours, because they always put a big smile on my face. And no worries, I don't intend for this to be a non-consent type of story, however… we aren't through it. So, no promises… **

**I'm so glad you liked that about Inoue's freaking out and rejecting the bad guy, cause to be honest, I wasn't really sure about it… So… Yay!**

**Somerlia- I'm guessing you don't like cliffies. :) You'll have to wait and see…**

**Nypsy- What would I do without you? As always, you are quite perceptive! I love your questions, but sadly, it would pretty much kill the story if I answered them…**

**Also, sorry about the wait on the M rating… I just know that people are going to royally filet me.**

**I'm seriously glad for all the great input you have, Thank you so much!**

**- I'm sorry if I've been confusing. Check the post up above I left for Not So Anonymous and see if that answers any of your questions. If not, could you let me know where I lost you? Thanks!**

**Skullex- Thank you so much! You are so sweet!**

**Maggzieofhyrule: Thanks so much and I'm sorry for making you wait! I love Zelda! I have the wings from Ocarina of Time on my back with a crescent in the center. It's nice to find someone with such good taste! :)**

**Chuain- Your review had me laughing out loud, because to be honest, I do think our little strawberry headed hero is a bit of a masochist… Also, nice observation on Orihime and Ichi's hollow. Seems our poor little Hime is having a few Post Traumatic Issues…**

_**Authorial Notice:**_

_**I'm not sure if I'll have time in the story to explain this, so I'll put it here for everyone.**_

_**One of the things about PTSS or PTSD, if you prefer, is that after you experience a traumatic event, it causes a severe adrenaline response, which create deep neurological patterns in the brain. These patterns can persist long after the event that triggered the original fear, making an individual hyper-responsive to future fearful situations. I believe this is what we were seeing in the Hueco Mundo arc, and why our cute little Orihime turned into really-super-freaked-out-all-the-time Orihime. Anyhow… In some cases the individual may develop psychological connections between the original stimuli and other fear inducing situations (like, for example- Icigo's hollow) which results in phobia's that may or may not have anything to do with the original stimuli.**_

_**Or to put it simply, she is afraid of her loss of control; most likely, because she can't reconcile taking a life. She cannot even fathom the desire to do so. She has no point of reference to understand her own actions, and has therefore, related it to Ichigo's loss of control and the hollow inside him, which is the only example she really has. So, because it is the closest to her own situation and feelings; she has rationalized a fear of Ichi's hollow.**_

**I really hope that clears some stuff up…**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys make my little corner of the universe go 'round!**


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Disclaimer: I do not intend any infringement on the property of Kubo Tite.

Warnings: Little bit of adult themed language, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Eleven

For once, Orihime ignored the polite and slightly surprised greetings of her schoolmates as she sprinted down the hallway intent on her destination. The plastic rectangle signs outside of the classrooms silently marked her progress.

She was exhausted. She hadn't slept at all last night; hadn't even been back to her apartment until this morning. She had thought about skipping school all together, opting out in favor of continuing her random and directionless search, but then she had stumbled upon the notion that maybe Yuri would be there.

It was a long shot, but Orihime was out of options.

Her search last night had been as fruitless as she had feared. She hadn't known where to go and it was silly and stupid and dangerous, but she knew she couldn't have done anything else. There was no right time to leave a little girl alone and helpless. Even if admittedly, that little girl had handled herself _far better_ than Orihime… Still, it was a matter of principle.

She tumbled into a group of astonished lower classmen, some of which had taken out phones to snap quick snapshots as she raced through, oblivious. She didn't even pause after crashing into one of them that hadn't been smart enough to get out of the way, knocking books out of his flabbergasted hands. She called out hurried apologies over her shoulder.

Then Orihime saw it up ahead, the little plaque that read 'class 2-6'. She slid to a stop outside of the door, her shoes making an ear piercing squeal against the flooring's ugly speckled linoleum. She braced herself against the door, dragging in one ragged breath after another.

She had to blink several times to make sure she wasn't seeing things; sure that her tired mind must be having a nice joke at her expense. Inoue had wanted so badly to see Yuri-chan alive and well, but even _she_ hadn't believed that it would be so… _simple_. And she supposed that considering she had lied to the school counselor and practically stole Yuri's class schedules, it hadn't really been all _that_ easy.

_But still._

Chatting merrily with a group of girls twice her height, carrying on an animated conversation complete with wild gesticulations, stood Yuri Kumiho wearing a wide smile across her face.

Orihime stood nonplussed.

Not only was the girl alive and well, but she seemed to be the pentacle of mental health and stability. Not at all looking or acting like, what Inoue imagined someone would after having been violently attacked in the night. _She should be upset, or quiet and withdrawn, right? _

Yuri should look more like… well, like _Orihime_ did.

She sulked, looking down at her hastily thrown on uniform. Her buttons weren't even lined up correctly. She looked back up to the group of heartily laughing teen girls.

Had she missed something? Had it all been a joke? Was Yuri-chan telling everyone about it, even now? Were they laughing _at her_?

She backed out of the doorway, before anyone in the class could see her. Orihime knew that she hadn't exactly had it all together last night, but she hadn't misread the situation, had she? Because, surely there was no way little Yuri would do something so cruel, right?

She pressed her lips together in deep concentration, as she wearily turned away walked down the hallway and back towards the other end of the school. Her thoughts were just so muddled. She could hardly even focus through the cottony fog of sleep deprivation her mind was trying to work through, and her feet hurt from walking all night, and nothing was making any sense…

She had been walking Yuri home and they had been attacked, the younger girl had run away and Orihime had been saved by Ichigo- or more correctly, Ichigo's hollow or both of them, she really didn't get how it worked… and then she had been stranded on a roof top with…. And then he had…

Orihime let that particular train of thought drop away, determined not to think on it. Or at least until she had had a good night's rest.

She sighed, opening the door into her own class.

Ochi-sensei had already started the lesson and gave Orihime the standard harassment about being late, before directing her to her seat and continuing on. She sat down heavily in her chair, exhaustion flowing from every point on her body, and tried valiantly not to fall asleep.

* * *

Ichigo tapped an impatient fingertip on the windowsill, looking out over the school grounds for a trace of an auburn headed girl, before glancing back at the class's door for the hundredth time.

He had woken up that morning with an excruciating headache and a detached sense of dread he couldn't seem to pinpoint. He had known that something felt out of place, but just couldn't seem to put his finger on it. That is, until his father busted into his room, waylaying him with a barrage of random flying kicks and goofy intermittent punches in a style Karen had lovingly dubbed 'drunken-goat style' yelling about house rules and the penalty for breaking curfew.

Everything had begun to crash down on him from that point. He remembered following Inoue, his hollow's crazed laughter echoing through his head, and flashes of her walking toward him, through the fingers of his hand pressed against his face.

He had rushed out of his house around his still madly lecturing father, much to the old man's surprise. Speeding towards Orihime's apartment, he had berated his own thoughtlessness every step of the way. He should have known his hollow was planning something. He should have _told her_ before it could happen.

He pictured the innocent face she had looked at him with, before it had twisted into startled apprehension_. How could he have allowed something like this…? _It was _Inoue_. He had given his word that he would protect her and it didn't matter that it had been a long time ago or in another place.

_He had promised… _

He rounded on her apartment, prepared to fly up the stairs when he realized it.

She wasn't there.

He had panicked before realizing that she always left early for school, and if he concentrated, he could feel her gentle riatsu coming from that direction. So, he had gone back towards the school, intent on finding her and making sure she was safe and unharmed. He refused to think about what might have happened to her, but was more than happy to picture all the things he would do to his bastard hollow, if anything _had_.

But even just the feeling of her light spiritual pressure was a relief to him at the time, and he concentrated on that as he hurried toward the school.

She hadn't been in their classroom, which was where he had expected her when he arrived, and he was torn between waiting there and going to hunt her down. He decided that he could wait, but if she didn't get there soon, then he would go hunting. Having settled that, he tossed his bag down in his chair with a little more force than necessary; sending a mischievously crouching Keigo scurrying away with a single look.

Ochi-sensei walked through the door and began to start the lesson.

Ichigo had just decided to make an excuse and leave, when Orihime blew in, but at the sight of her, he discovered himself far from reassured. He frowned while taking in her fatigued and chaotic appearance.

She was flushed and tousled, and as she turned to take her seat, he could easily make out dark circles under her drained expression. Her eyes spoke volumes about her condition and her shoulders looked like they were being burdened down with a heavy weight. She looked completely worn out.

He wondered how hard it would be to get her out of class without making a scene.

From his window seat he saw Ishida tossing her concerned glances over his shoulder. He flicked his eyes back at Ichigo with a questioning glance that seemed to hold the sharp edge of suspicion.

Ichigo looked away, hands clenching the fabric of his pants in his fingers; feeling anxiety and irritation gnawing at his gut in turn.

As much as he would like to drag her out, there was no way Ishida would just let them go quietly. And the things he needed to ask Inoue about weren't things he necessarily wanted the archer to overhear. He would wait until lunch, if he had to. At least she was safe, and as far as he could tell, she didn't appear to have been injured. Not that appearances mattered with Orihime's healing abilities, he reminded himself.

_Damn… How had he let this happen?_

He growled at his hollow in his head; willing the bastard to show himself. He knew he was there, because he could hear the dark timbre of his derisive laughter echoing against his skull.

_Bastard! What the hell did you do to Inoue?_

He gritted his teeth against another wave of mocking amusement, but received no other response.

_Goddamn it! …It isn't funny!_

Ishida cleared his throat loudly and Ichigo looked up to see that both he and Chad were looking at him pointedly. It took him a moment to realize that he had let control of his spiritual pressure slip away. He reined it in quickly, and went back to staring out the window.

Inoue's soft little sleepy snores filled the classroom, and it seemed even their teacher didn't have the heart to wake her.

He frowned, thinking back to the previous night. Trying to recall anything that would give him some indication on what kind of corner he had backed himself into, but all he got was a series of brief and disconnected fragments. None of it made any sense…

All he really knew for sure was that his hollow had just blindsided him out of nowhere. He hadn't even been thinking about it, because _he_ had been so quiet all day. Now, Ichigo saw that, obviously, it had been his plan from the beginning. And now it was worse, because he hadn't told Inoue that this had been a danger all along.

He scrubbed at his forehead with one hand, wondering how _that_ conversation was going to go.

Class dragged on for what seemed like forever, before the lunch bell rang. Their Sensei had finally woken Orihime up after a while, but she had still managed to fall back asleep… _twice_.

He left his books by his desk, and as quickly as he could, made his way over to Inoue; efficiently plucking her from the group of clucking and fretting classmates. He led her out by the elbow, in a way that would have probably been considered gentlemanly, if not for the irritated scowl plastered on his face.

He pushed her lightly, urging her faster from behind, eager to get out before Ishida caught on.

She didn't talk as he directed her down the hall and out towards the soccer fields, for which he was grateful, but only because he _still_ didn't know what he was going to say. He stopped behind the field house hoping it sufficiently hid them from the view of the main building, and released her.

Inoue turned around to face him. A light breeze rustled her long orange hair, but it seemed to float around her without its usual enthusiasm.

Ichigo shifted uneasily. Now that he had actually gotten to the point where he needed to say something, he was feeling anxious again. He pushed his hands down into his pockets and clenched and unclenched his fists, not sure why this was so hard.

She looked better than she had in class, and he wasn't sure if it was from the quick powernaps or the brisk walk. She seemed about as nervous as he was, and Ichigo felt a tickle of guilt knowing he was the cause of it, without actually knowing _how_ he had caused it.

He sighed. "Are you ok?"

"I think so…um…" She glanced down at herself. "I mean, aside from the obvious."

He considered how to break the ice, as something else occurred to him. "Where are your hair clips?"

"Huh?" She looked at him questioningly, then… "Oh!"

Her hands flew up and she wilted somewhat. "My barrettes… I don't know. Maybe I left them at my apartment…"

He watched her pine silently, before shaking himself and remembering why they were here in the first place.

"Inoue…" He closed his eyes, abruptly feeling like someone had dumped lead weight down his spine. He found himself unable to meet her gaze.

"…Yes?"

He blew out a breath and glanced up with penitent eyes.

"Last night…did…" He shifted his stance. "I mean, I don't really know what-"

He paced a single short exasperated line, before coming back to stand in the same spot. He forced himself to meet her eyes.

"…Did I hurt you?"

He knew he hadn't been in control, but his guilt laced brain refused to structure the question any other way. It _was_ his fault. He should have known. He should have had better control. So it _was_ his fault; _he had_ hurt her.

She blinked.

"Of- of course you didn't." She said it like she was scandalized by the very thought.

He regarded her stiffly, trying to decide if she was putting on a brave face or not. After a few moments, he let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, stepping back. Something in him relaxed minutely, but even so, the respite was almost tangible.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He paused, hating the apprehension in his own voice.

She fidgeted. That was how he knew she was going to try to lessen the sting by downplaying the situation. He hated the traitorous little part of him that actually felt grateful.

"Inoue-sempai…?" Came a tentative male voice behind them.

Ichigo frowned over his shoulder, turning a hard look towards the third-year student that was hesitantly approaching them. It took him all of two seconds to size the smaller, dark-haired guy up as a non-threat. But he still found himself annoyed at being interrupted, especially when they were clearly having an important conversation.

As he turned to face the approaching figure, he made sure to carefully shield his expression, when Inoue gave a tentative glance back at him.

She turned to face their visitor.

"Yes?" She asked.

Ichigo scowled, not liking the type of nervousness the other guy seemed to be radiating. Clearly she was only taking pity on him because of his obvious uneasiness, but as he returned her smile, Ichigo felt a little curl of irritation towards the other male, whether he was younger or not.

Inoue smiled again, giving the young man an encouraging nod.

The boy fidgeted for a moment before looking meaningfully toward Ichigo, indicating that he would rather have a private discussion.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall; prepared to get comfortable. Once again, he made sure his expression was neutral as she looked back to measure his reaction to the request. He said nothing either way, but made it clear through his posture that he had no intention to leave.

She gave a small strained laugh, before taking a few measured steps away, clearly trying to give the illusion of privacy, while still bowing to her friend's desire to be present. She waited patiently for him to state why he wanted to speak with her.

Ichigo shoved his hands into his pockets; the guy didn't seem to be taking his subtle hints to leave them the hell alone.

"Uh, well…" The boy trailed off, catching the fierce stare down Ichigo was giving him over Inoue's shoulder. But, then much to the substitute's dismay, he rallied and pressed on, clearly willing to be persistent. "Oh! You dropped these this morning. They must have fallen out of your pocket or something…"

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pair of blue sparkling hair clips, placing them in Orihime's eagerly outstretched hands.

"You found them! I was so worried… Thank you! I don't know what I would have done without them." She beamed at him gratefully, placing the clips in her hair while she spoke. "You have to let me make it up to you! What was your name again…?"

The boy looked surprised for a second, before a dazed and disbelieving smile began spreading over his face. "Chokichi… uh, Chokichi Keitaro... I'm in the grade below you."

"Well Chokichi-kun, do you like daifuku?" She asked brightly.

"Y-yeah, it's great… it's the one with the bean paste, right? That one's the best."

Ichigo blinked, feeling that things were all going very rapidly downhill.

"You like red bean paste?" He asked incredulously.

Chokichi cast him a startled glance, but shook it off, responding instead to Orihime. "Yeah, and white bean paste, it's great on everything…"

Ichigo scowled deeper; Inoue on the other hand positively began to glow.

"It's fate! There's this little shop by my apartment that sells it. We can go after school, and I'll buy you some to make up for my hairpins!"

"Huh?" Ichigo snapped his mouth shut, not having intended that comment to come out. But no one seemed to be paying attention to him. He gritted his teeth, with equal measures of annoyance for the black haired kid in front of him and his hollow, who was violently insisting that he tear the kid apart.

"…What r-really?" It didn't seem like the Chokichi kid could believe his luck, but then again, neither could Ichigo. "Of course! That would be great. I'll meet you out front after school. Thanks, Inoue-sempai."

He left with a smile that had Ichigo clenching his hands into fists.

"Isn't this great, Kurosaki-kun? Now I don't have to worry about trying to find them later…" As she turned to face him, her sentence veered off. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah" He almost barked, before he could pull himself into order and soften his tone. "Look lunch is almost over…" He paused as a reckless impulse came over him, his natural protectiveness hitting him over the head, demanding action on his part. "Maybe I could tag along with you guys, and then we can talk once you're finished."

Her eyes lit up in a way that had him squashing back a small swell of guilt. He fended it off by telling himself it was what Tatsuki would have done, but even _he_ wasn't buying it.

She nodded enthusiastically, before showering him in praise. "Kurosaki-kun is so smart! That fixes everything!"

_It certainly did… _He thought, dredging up that boy's happy grin in his memory.

Did that guy seriously think that he was just going to weasel some sort of date out of Inoue? Or that Ichigo would just stand by idly, while he ran back to his friends, slapping high fives about pulling a fast one over on her?

_Over his rotting corpse…_

"Oh, Kurosaki-kun...? I forgot. I have to go get my replacement textbooks. I lost mine somewhere... I guess I'll see you after school." And with that she ran off and down the stairwell tripping over her own feet and almost plummeting all the way down.

He shook his head following at a much slower pace, trying to calm down his ranting hollow, through willpower alone. It didn't seem to be working.

_So now you want to talk…? Huh, you bastard? Well, too bad…_

He had dealt with it all before and he sure as hell didn't need help. Apparently, subtlety on his part wasn't working. Time to move on to intimidation, maybe one of his father's well rounded speeches on respecting women- edited of course- and if that didn't work, there were certainly other ways to solve problems of this type.

All of a sudden he felt glad at the opportunity to set an example for any of the other bastards that liked to watch her on the sly, while she walked blissfully unaware down the halls. He gave a rare lopsided smile and felt his other half mirror it with a wicked grin of his own, which immediately splintered his mirth.

He scowled letting the stair door slam behind him.

* * *

"Ha ha…"Orihime laughed nervously, observing, yet still trying not to acknowledge, the awkward silence that had descended. Again.

It turned out that after fifteen minutes of discussing her hair clips and all the things bean paste tasted great on, she and Chokichi-kun had run out of things to say to each other. And Ichigo, never much for light-hearted banter in the first place, sat across the table, as flexible as a giant boulder and almost as conversational.

She picked up a chopstick and poked at her daifuku, just to have something to do with her hands.

With a sinking heart, Orihime conceded that the only way this situation could become more uncomfortable, would be if one of them suddenly developed a case of uncontrollable gastric distress.

_Oh god, please don't let that happen… _

She tried valiantly to suppress the blush that was creeping up at the thought. She couldn't taint her thoughts of Kurosaki-kun this way! It was practically blasphemous!

She stole a surreptitious glance up at him from under her lashes, noting that he didn't seem to be enjoying himself. He sat back in his chair; arms crossed and scowling one of his '_I am not happy'_ scowls, which all in all, looked a lot like his other scowls, only scowlier.

She sighed. This was supposed to be fun, but no one was enjoying themselves and she couldn't help but feel partially responsible.

What she needed most right now was a plan; a sure fire way to bring life back into the men across the table. She had always been good at captivating an audience with her imaginative stories, right? After all, hadn't everyone been astounded by her idea for a laser toothbrush? Surely she could think up an undeniably fascinating topic that would open up the way for a lively dialog…

_Now, let's see… something interesting… _

She finally settled on an issue that Mizuiro had once revealed to her and Rukia that had fascinated them for days; delighted that her topic was also wonderfully relevant.

"You know, every time an awkward silence happens, somewhere a gay baby is born…!" She tossed out with compulsory cheer, making sure to smile widely in the hope that her topic would catch on.

Ichigo snapped out of his trance. "Huh…?"

Chokichi blinked at her rapidly.

Orihime was too distracted by someone passing by the window to notice either of them.

"Shinji-kun!"

Ichigo, who had been balancing on the back two legs of his chair, promptly fell over. He laid there stunned for a moment, before blinking up to see a pair of velvety looking suede shoes, and knew without a doubt that only one person in the world would wear something so ostentatious. Maybe two, he frowned, if he counted his father…

"Oh no, Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime rushed to help him up.

"The pinnacle of grace as usual, Kurosaki." Shinji drawled.

Ichigo growled, glowering up at the blond vizard in front of him. "_Die…_ you piece of sh-."

"Now, now…" He interrupted. "Foul language is the recourse of a weak mind… And in front my impressionable Orihime-chan, too." He plucked her back as she passed by on her way to the orange haired substitute, and slung an arm over her shoulders, nuzzling her hair.

Ichigo was practically apoplectic from his little corner of the floor; a fact not missed or helped by Shinji punctuating the statement by sticking out his tongue in what he assumed to be an appropriately childish fashion.

His skull shaped tongue piercing sparkled faintly in the fluorescent lighting.

Ichigo was on his feet in an instant, trying to figure out how to get at the irritating bastard around Inoue, who was being used as an impromptu barrier.

"Ah… Inoue-sempai…?"

Orihime had to balance on wildly faltering tiptoes to see over the implacable shoulder in front of her. "Y-yes, Cho-kichi-kun?" She fragmented, slightly out of breath from the energetic jostling around her.

"I uh, well, I didn't know you had a boyfriend…" He sounded quite downtrodden.

"Eh…?" She piped, not quite sure what he had meant by that, but beginning to get a faint inkling that he had completely misconstrued something important. At his declaration, the two squabbling vizards had paused in their attempts to _get at_ and or _get away_, and as such, she was trapped between two sets of abnormally strong arms.

"I'm just going to go then… Thank you for the dessert." He reversed timidly, bobbing a quick little nervous bow out the door.

They stared at the door silently for a full second before Ichigo articulated their communal thought. "The hell…? What boyfriend?"

He looked over to see Shinji smiling widely at him.

* * *

"That bastard…" Ichigo muttered fiercely.

"It's ok, Kurosaki-kun. I don't mind if people think that." Orihime placated.

Beside her Ichigo missed a step.

"Shinji-kun is really nice and it isn't like he meant for that to happen…" She was trying to convince him that she wasn't offended, but it didn't seem to be going very well. Ichigo was always very protective, but she didn't want him upset about something so unimportant. People always talked.

She glanced up to see if her pleas were having any effect. Apparently not, since his brow seemed to be getting ever tenser. She bit her lip in thought. Maybe she wasn't saying it like she meant it. She should try to sound more cheerful.

She tried again, making sure to give him a dazzling smile. "I mean… remember last year when there was that rumor about me and Ishida-kun? That one was _reeeally_ funny!"

She looked over for any sign that he was listening, but even though she was trying her hardest, he just shoved a hand through his hair; jaw clenched in a disheartening way. She gave up. She had never been as good as Rukia at this stuff anyway.

She crossed her arms and propped her chin up on one finger, trying to imagine what the smaller shinigami would say in this situation, but she couldn't think of anything. She sighed deciding to call the situation a wash and making a mental note to ask Rukia when she saw her next.

Next to her, Ichigo finally stirred from his reticence. "Don't worry about it... He just pisses me off sometimes."

They came to a stop and Ichigo looked up at the front of his house, frowning at it. He couldn't feel the old man at the moment, but it had taken him all of five seconds after finding out that he was a shinigami's son, to also realize his father was an unbelievably capable and sneaky individual…_and _an idiot._ Who knew?_

He glared at his front door for another minute before noticing Inoue shifting uncomfortably beside him, no doubt wondering what the holdup was. "Hey, Inoue… How do you feel about climbing in through my window?"

He was surprised at how good she was at climbing, considering that she was habitually disaster prone. She struggled to lever herself over the frame and Ichigo reached a hand out and pulled her the rest of the way up, watching as she flopped gracelessly onto his bed. She wrestled her skirt down and gave him a bright smile.

"You were right, Kurosaki-kun! That was way fun! I sure am finding myself hanging from a lot of high places lately." She gave a little laugh while rubbing her head.

He winced at her volume making shushing noises and glancing toward his door, before what she said dawned on him. He was abruptly hit with a visual of her panicked face held over a ledge by a disturbingly familiar shihakushou covered arm.

He flinched away from the memory. _Where had that come from?_

"Inoue?" He could tell she understood his tone, because she stilled and he could almost feel the pensive look she was giving him. "Tell me what happened."

He turned to face her. He needed to be able to watch her face to tell if she would try to cushion the blow; try to dumb it down so that he could swallow it. She was sitting delicately on the edge of his bed, like she was afraid to be touching it at all. Which was probably about right, considering it was Inoue.

He waited.

She was chewing her lip, presumably thinking about her answer. At the sight, another flash of half formed memory materialized in his head. He felt his knees threatening to buckle.

He sat down hard before he could humiliate himself by falling over.

Why hadn't she told him before? When he had asked her if he had hurt her, why didn't she tell him about it then?

All he could think of was that she had seemed _so convincing_. He closed his eyes briefly, and asked her again the question from earlier.

"Inoue… _Did I hurt you_?"

He tried to find her eyes, but she wasn't meeting his; it didn't matter. She had already begun to adamantly deny it and it only served to reinforce what he already knew, making him crazy with guilt. Ichigo went cold with the sudden realization that Inoue was willing to withhold the truth, if she thought that it would hurt him.

He gritted his teeth and looked away, refusing to acknowledge what she was saying.

In the back of his head his hollow laughed…

He slammed his fist into the floor, causing Orihime to jump violently and instantly cutting off whatever she had been telling him. Why did it have to be _Inoue_? She was _practically defenseless.._. What kind of sick fuck got off on scaring someone who was so _good_?

_You fucking bastard!_

There wasn't even a pause before his hollow responded. For once he wasn't evading Ichigo's questions; to gleeful at the thought of his other half's pain to hide or even feign to shy away from the surface.

**I think out of the two of us, you're the one that's scaring her **_**partner**_**.**

Ichigo shut his eyes against the reverberation of truth in the voice he couldn't block out.

He felt cold fingers on the back of his clenched hand and it took him a second to realize he hadn't imagined it. He opened his eyes to see Inoue's fingers tentatively wrapping around his closed fist. They were soft but firm, as she wiggled them into his closed hand and slowly began loosening his clenched fingers, smoothing them out until he let them relax. When she finished, she sat back on her heels, taking the soothing peace of her touch with her.

It was a forward gesture. Inoue rarely initiated physical contact and the fact that she was doing so now should have spoken volumes, but he was much too unsettled and numb to tell anything.

She waited patiently in front of him; their knees brushing.

"I'm sorry… I'll tell you if you want." She offered in a soft voice, trying to build a bridge with her words.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"There's not really much to say…" She began. Then she seemed to ready herself and with a deep breath she plunged in. "He, um, took me to a place… a rooftop. And, uh, we talked, but didn't really say anything important—"

"He threatened you on the ledge. Why?" His own voice sounded detached; like he wasn't there at all. Almost as if he was seeing it happen to someone else.

The entire time Inoue spoke, her eyes were staring at her own hands where they fisted her skirt just above her knees. Her voice was small and strained, and he knew he was asking a lot, but he _had_ to know.

"I don't think it was supposed to be a threat…" She sidestepped.

He sat still, not really comprehending her words for a moment, and then blinked up at her dumbfounded. _Why was she doing this…?_ It almost sounded like she was defending _him_.

"…_Not supposed_ to be a _threat_?" Incredulity laced his tone, making it harsher than he had expected.

She stumbled, unsure how to answer. "I-I'm not really—"

He waved a hand, a quick frustrated slice through the air, cutting her off.

"What about…" He trailed away, getting a vivid mental picture of what he really wanted to know. Dread crept down his spine with ice-cold, razorblade claws. He didn't want to ask, because he _knew_ the truth could only make this feeling worse, but he _had_ to.

"Did he, I…_kiss_ you?" It came out badly; the tone was raw and aching, even to his ears. He hated the almost-pain that lined the question.

She didn't answer; didn't look up. Her eyes were squinting, as if she were holding back tears. She looked ashamed, which was ridiculous, because _he_ was the bad guy here. He was the one who was supposed to feel ashamed, and he did. He was ashamed, frustrated, angry, and a cocktail of other emotions he wasn't sure how to explore or even categorize.

He stared at her intently, willing her to answer the question; willing her to stop looking so _guilty_. He was certain that if he could just see her eyes he would _know_, but she just _wouldn't look at him_. He felt cheated out of something that he had always had access to before. Like she was pushing him out or setting him adrift… and he didn't like it.

And he just needed her to _look at him_.

He reached out and gently caught her elbow, tugging her forward until she was forced to look at him. She fumbled for balance and ended up steadying herself with one hand on the floor between his knees.

But when he did see her eyes he was completely caught off guard.

They raged with a confusion that rivaled his own and they shone brightly with unshed tears. There was wonder and even a streak of bitterness that surprised him and he didn't know what to make of it.

But all of that was in the background.

Right at that moment, all he could think of was that he _really_ shouldn't have pulled her so close, because all he had to do to close the distance would be the _barest_ of movements. It wouldn't be anything at all… just a slight tilt of his head.

He was surprised at the immense feeling of relief the though brought him and he hesitated; puzzled. He glanced at her mouth. It would be _easier_ to give in; to do what he wanted and deal with the consequences later. He brought himself up short, resisting the urge… _barely_.

But then he looked back to her eyes and they were conveying a message that he shouldn't be able to understand. Something he had seen a thousand times and always failed to recognize. Now the primal more instinctual aspect of his brain was decoding at an alarming rate. It was sending signals to parts of him he wasn't even aware of at the moment. He couldn't think and he couldn't move away, and all the reasons why he shouldn't be doing this had long since deserted him.

He shuddered under the weight of his own response.

…_fuck it._

He closed the distance in a heartbeat.

There was a force that had been building up in him, ever since he had first realized that his hollow had gotten free. That he had roamed around completely void of any sort of interference from Ichigo. He had been completely subdued by his hollow, even if it had only been a short time. His hollow was getting stronger at an unthinkable speed.

He had felt powerless, weak. He had promised Inoue that he would protect her, but he had failed. He had exposed her to the monster. He was _being_ the monster.

But he wasn't thinking about any of that, because the warm burning sensation of her lips against his was almost unbearable in its intensity. Tiny tongues of fire danced over him and down his chest making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

She shivered against him and parted her lips on a sigh. He licked at her lower lip and his tongue brushed against the soft tip of hers; setting him ablaze.

When she returned his pressure with a desperate intensity of her own, it felt like molten lava sliding down his spine. He gasped against her lips, unprepared for the surge of sensation that such a simple act had elicited. It was like his entire being had turned, not just his hollow, but all of him, focusing like a shark sensing blood in the water. His reaction was immediate, fierce and bordered on violent in its intensity. And it jolted him back into reality.

Ichigo jerked back, shocked at his own actions.

He looked over at his hand surprised to see that it was fisted and wrapped in her hair. In front of him, Orihime's eyelashes fluttered revealing passion darkened grey eyes and… something else, which a part of him desperately wanted to explore.

Then he felt his hollow shifting and flexing. He released her, scrambling to his feet, carefully backing away.

She blinked at him and he could see her thoughts as they tumbled across her face, free from restriction. A slow blush crept up to her cheeks, before his reaction seemed to dawn on her. The gratified exhilaration drained out of her expression, replaced by a disappointment he didn't want to see, but watched anyway with a feeling of morbid self-imposed torment.

Her eyes fell until he couldn't see them behind her bangs, but Ichigo could make out the tremble in her lower lip. A lifetime ago, when he was younger, he would have been filled with dread at such a sight. Now he simply resigned himself to being an asshole.

"Inoue, I think you should go."

She flinched, clenching her skirt again, before her hands loosened. She slowly unfolded herself and smoothed out her skirt.

Then she looked up and gave him a bright smile, and it was so powerful that his chest hitched. He swallowed reflexively, not sure how much of it he would be able to endure before he crumbled. She took a step forward and he felt his back hit his closet door, before he felt the air shift and she swept by opening and closing the door behind her, without a word.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there; didn't know at what point he had slid down to the floor, back resting against the wall. He felt numb again, but this time it was an all-encompassing blankness. His thoughts bereft of meaning.

Ichigo banged his head back against the hollow door of his closet. He wished it would hurt more. God, he _was_ a monster.

They couldn't do this _now..._ The timing was all wrong and it was just too dangerous. And he couldn't be sure if this hadn't been in his hollows design all along. '_He'_ had taken advantage of Inoue, and now Ichigo was doing it too, only he didn't have the convenient excuse of being an evil son of a bitch.

He hissed out a breath between his teeth and ran both hands through his hair, clenching his bangs and crushing the heels of his hands to his eyes.

He was in bad trouble. Maybe the worst he had ever been in.

He had changed everything between them with that one stupid action. He had opened a door and had crossed the threshold, only to find that after he had, everything he had known and left behind had fallen away. Now there was nowhere to go back to; no way of undoing it.

He hadn't intended to kiss her. He hadn't intended to want her at all in that way… _but, now?_

Now, it was over.

And, no, there wouldn't be any going back.

* * *

**Unfortunately, I spent so much time writing this that I'll have to wait till next time to post responses. Sorry if you had any questions, but maybe this chapter cleared some things up… or made it worse. **

**I hope so/not, respectively. :)**

**Oh, and one more thing… **

**Do you see that little button at the bottom marked review…? If you click it, it will do a trick! Yay!**


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Warnings: Language and suggestive themes! Yay!

* * *

**Authorial Notice: **

**Ok! Well, now that Christmas is over, how about an update? **

**I'm going to tell you now, I felt like I had to give birth to this chapter, so it might be a little rough…. I hope not.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Rukia thoughtfully shifted her eyes between the tense alignment of Orihime's shoulder blades and then back to the perpetual act-of-god bad attitude that was Ichigo Kurosaki, because _clearly_ something was going on here.

She studied Inoue again for a moment.

The girl had hardly said a handful of words to anyone all morning, and there was no trace of her typically sweet smile. At first, Rukia hadn't known what to make of it. Orihime could get battered by a car and still pop up bright eyed and bushy tailed. And she wasn't an expert on human posture, but surely it was similar to a shinigami's, and taking that into consideration; if Rukia watched the girl hold her head that rigidly any longer, _she_ was going to start getting a neck ache.

She frowned, eyeing her silently stewing orange-haired companion. Maybe she didn't know anything about posture, but she _did_ know something about pain-in-the-neck men.

Even though Ichigo stared at his book, she knew he was only pretending to study. It might have been a passable performance, except she had already noted that he hadn't turned a page in the last ten minutes.

She scoffed. _How pitiful… _

At least she could read him better than he feigned reading that book.

"Hey…" She said, trying to capture his attention.

It was apparent he heard her by the slight twitch in his eyebrow, but he refused to turn his head or even acknowledge her.

She narrowed her eyes. How dare he pretend like she hadn't just addressed him.

Although_,_ she amended, he hadn't been particularly forth coming with any conversation this morning, towards anyone, yet another thing she had used to link the two unhappy red heads together. So she _supposed_ this situation might call for a bit of finesse….

She stretched out one delicate white hand and flicked him sharply in the forehead. His eye twitched twice as hard as the last time, but again, he made no other comment.

He seemed quite determined to ignore her today.

Rukia sighed, while glancing up to make sure their teacher hadn't entered yet. She hated not knowing what was going on. These weekly reports back to Soul Society consumed far more of her time then she would have liked, and she was apparently missing _everything_…

She grabbed her book and whacked him vigorously in the back of the head, then waited with all the patience she could work up for him to compose himself; unaffected by the string of curses he appended to her name.

"Did you _have_ to hit me?" He ground out, his usual scowl slipping negligently into place.

She considered this.

"Well, if by _have to_ you really mean that it is my happily performed obligation… then, yes. I suppose, I did _have _to hit you."

Rukia allowed herself a smirk, satisfied by her own clever reasoning.

Ichigo glared and rubbed his head. "You're skewed logic is even more skewed than normal."

"And your skewed temperament is even more skewed than normal." She quipped.

His brow wrinkled in confusion. "That doesn't even make sense…"

She ignored his comment, jumping off her desk and straight to the heart of the matter. Leave it to Ichigo to notice trivial things like that, but still fail utterly to capture the point. "What is the deal with you and Inoue?"

She watched the way his eyes walled off almost instantly, becoming hard and passive all at the same time. When he spoke his voice lacked its usual tailored indifference. It lacked all emotion really.

"There is no deal, Rukia, I don't know what you're talking about."

She quirked an eyebrow and regarded him like he was both very useless and very dumb. Then decided it was _still_ probably an overestimate of his current intellectual level.

"So… I have to spell it out for you? Fine. You both look like hell, _and_ you haven't said anything to her in three days!" She leveled him with a knowing look.

He snorted. "How would you even know? You haven't _been_ here."

She crossed her arms and gave him a smug expression. "I have my ways…"

He followed her glance over toward Keigo and Mizuiro, the former of which was trying to hide behind a bookcase. Mizuiro was staring wide-eyed and unconvincingly out the window.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. Some friends…

"You're not answering the question." She prompted. "When I left, you two were all…" she twisted her fingers making little x's. " …and now you're all…" She made another gesture he failed to interpret. "…blah."

God, he hoped she didn't pull out the markers…

"Nothing's going on. So just drop it."

He wasn't looking at her.

"You must have done something to upset her, then." She nodded her head decidedly. It was time for action. "Well, if that's the case, then be a man and apologize already. Seriously, you can't just wait around expecting me to have handy answers to all of _your_ problems."

His jaw tensed and he turned toward the window.

She frowned at him.

She _hated_ it when he did this. She knew for a fact that situations like this should be resolved quickly, before they became bigger than necessary, and made trouble for everyone, _especially_ if they would make trouble for _her._

Perhaps she could get through to him, Rukia speculated, if she simply spoke exceptionally slowly and enunciated every syllable. No, scratch that, maybe she should try not to use words with more than _one_ syllable. She nodded to herself. It _was_ Ichigo, after all. Maybe it was some sort of hereditary male retardation that kept him from identifying and solving what should otherwise be a simple problem. Because it seemed even for a human teenager he could be dense, _especially_ where it concerned any sort of female aspect.

And she was quickly losing patience.

"Are you going to apologize or not?" She demanded, tapping her toe for added effect.

He growled what she could only guess was a negative response.

Rukia pressed her lips together and summoned the long-suffering forbearance of her noble upbringing. "I fail to comprehend, why you think that such an ingenuous and elementary presentation would be able to dissuade me. _Perhaps…_ I should have simply asked her for myself-"

She cut off with a blink as he abruptly stood and left the room without a word or even a glance.

She looked over to see Inoue stiffen further, even though Ichigo clearly went out of his way to go around her.

Rukia grimaced, realizing that the situation had _already_ gotten ridiculously out of hand. She let her shoulders slump with a sigh. _What a bother..._ She was going to have to lend a hand or those two would never get it together.

Only, the problem was that _she_ wasn't exactly an expert on this kind of thing, either.

_Maybe, I could ask Nii-sama... _

She pressed her lips. No, he was far too busy. Renji was about as stupid as Ichigo and _he_ would probably make it worse. She would rather die than owe Urahara a debt, so she couldn't ask him.

She frowned.

Surely there was _someone_ she could ask… Rukia gasped as realization hit her. Grabbing her books, she darted out of the room. It would take a while to reach Soul Society, but it would be worth it if she could get back before school was out. And with any luck, perhaps they would have this resolved by the end of the day.

She smiled to herself as she bolted out the door behind Ichigo, never noticing the startled and uneasy way Inoue's eyes followed her.

* * *

Orihime watched her feet move against the chipped and dingy, gum strewn pavement as she walked around downtown.

School had been terrible that day, just like it had every other day since the kiss. And just like every other day, she found the thought of facing her empty apartment was more than she was capable of doing.

It wasn't like she had never been kissed before; actually it was sort of a hazard, especially where Chizuru was concerned, but it had been the first and only kiss she had ever returned.

She sighed. A week ago the thought of Ichigo kissing her would have been enough to send her spiraling into a chasm of joy, but now it seemed the thought had been spoiled somehow. Her feelings were confused. She used to dream about this; now the situation had become overly complicated.

The truth was it hadn't even been her and Ichigo's first kiss… not really. His hollow had kissed her, but looking back, she wasn't sure if that even counted. She wrinkled her forehead in thought.

She didn't really know what to make of his hollow. It was a part of him to be sure, but she had no idea how far that connection extended. It _seemed_ like he had remembered it… that wasn't the same as kissing him though, was it?

And it had felt so _different_.

Kurosaki-kun had set her on fire. He had been hot and fierce and demanding. When she was with him, she felt protected, like nothing could touch her.

His hollow hadn't made her feel safe at all; the opposite in fact. The gentleness of his actions had only served to highlight that he didn't _have_ to be gentle at all. That he might change his mind at any moment. And by the time he had finished with her, she had been nothing but a senseless, shivering mess.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge traitorous, beguiling thoughts, because after all, _none of it really mattered..._ They had both reacted in the same way.

A thought hit her and she stumbled slightly; the tip of her shoe scraping against the uneven sidewalk.

_What if she was just a bad kisser…?_

Her face flamed up in shame. Those two times were the only instances she had to go on. What if she was just terrible at it?

She tilted her head to the side and contemplated this newest turn of thought. She had personally found it to be startlingly addictive, but what did she know? Maybe Kurosaki-kun was just _good_ at it…She suspected so.

Orihime had always been hopelessly lost about these things. Sexuality was a mystery. The only person she had ever tried to ask had been her brother once when she was younger and _he_ had looked at her like she was trying to electrocute him. He had grown a wild, terrified look, backing away slowly, mumbling soothing, incoherent words as if she were some sort of crazed or deranged animal.

The reaction had kept her from bringing it up again, but had done nothing to assuage her curiosity. If anything, it had actually made it worse.

She had tried to read one of Tatsuki's romance books, but then had to give up, because of the risk of developing a permanent blush. It was starting to seem that she was a hopeless failure as a woman. But once again, after everything was said and done, none of it really mattered anymore. She had her answer. He didn't want her in that way. It was ok to be a friend, but that was all they could ever be.

_Maybe not even that now… _The thought dropped into the pool of her conscious with the cold, crystalline clarity of a bell.

She lowered her head as the tears threatened the corners of her eyes, and then she promptly ran into a wall.

She blinked. It was a wall with shoes…

Orihime looked up, way up, only to come face to face with the captain of the eleventh division, and was surprised that she only squeaked a little bit.

He measured her carefully with one coal black eye and an unreadable expression. The more observant part of her brain noted that he looked even more like a savage in his human clothes, but she squashed it quickly. It was never a good idea to show fear to someone like Kenpachi.

She forced out a stuttered and strangled apology. He narrowed his eyes.

"This her?" His voice was much deeper and more gravelly than she remembered. Her eyes widened as she comprehended his words.

_What in the world could he possibly want from her?_

"Oi, Yachiru. Cut the bullshit, this her or ain't it?"

Yachiru's sweetly innocuous face popped up over one shoulder. She gave Orihime the same careful once over, then lit up in a toothy grin.

"'Course it is Ken-chan!" She pulled his hair back to get a look at his face. "Don't ya remember…?"

He gave a noncommittal grunt.

"Orihime!"

Orihime looked around and then realizing the large man was taking up most of her line of sight, took a step back. There beside them, hassling and elbowing her way around Zaraki, was someone she might have actually expected to see.

"Rangiku-san?"

She was carrying a pile of shopping bags and proceeded to elbow and push them at the taller shinigami, until Yachiru noticed and started smacking him over the head. With a grunt and heaving sigh he took her bags.

She blinked. That was certainly unexpected…

Rangiku gave her a wink.

"What are you doing here?" Orihime said without really thinking, still phased by the sight of Zaraki Kenpachi carrying shopping bags.

"Huh? What kind of a greeting is that? You should say, 'Oh! I'm so happy to see you, Rangiku!' None of this San stuff. I'm still a young woman after all…"

Zaraki gave another expressive grunt and Orihime wondered if it were possible that he had formed an entire language out of nothing but grunts. On a better day she might have laughed or asked or even smiled, but today was not a good day and she felt like someone had let the plug out on her bathtub of emotion.

The blond woman sniffed daintily and continued as if her girlishness hadn't just been seriously offended. "I do get days off after all, I can't always be working myself into an early, paperwork filled grave and besides, a girl _needs_ to shop…"

"Oh." She replied, not really believing it.

Rangiku examined her a great deal more closely than Orihime was strictly comfortable with. "But…" She continued. "It also happens that this is an official errand of the S.W.A." She announced proudly.

"The what…?"

"The Soul Society Women's Association, of course... And not a moment too soon, is it?" She gave the smaller woman another careful once over, before sighing. "Well, there's nothing for it."

She looked over to Yachiru and nodded, and then announced to the world as a single entity. "Girltalk."

Kenpachi seemed to come back to the conversation at that, to realize he was being waved off. "Buh?" He looked down at his hands still holding mounds of boutique bags, some of which were blindingly pink and hideously _pretty_. "This is shit."

Yachiru glowered down and smacked him in the side of the head. "It's not shit, Ken-chan!" She lept from his shoulder gracefully.

He gave Rangiku a sour look as if she alone were to blame. Then, without preamble, he turned and stalked off, probably to find the nearest bar.

Rangiku flashed a bright smile, attached herself to Orihime and began steering her down the street, explaining as she went. "You see… the S.W.A has become quite prominent as of late. Even I myself have graciously offered my services to the benefit of my sisters." She began proudly. "It's our job as women to help each other out, get it?"

"Mmm…not really." She answered doubtfully.

She was led into a local coffee shop and guided into a booth. Five minutes later, she watched Rangiku slide a cup of ice cream and coffee in front of her. Yachiru finished quickly and eyed the sweets at the counter, not paying the slightest attention to the larger women in the face of sugar.

"Oh… how to explain…" Rangiku pressed two fingers to her lips then snapped them abruptly. "Rukia!"

Orihime shifted nervously in her seat. "Rukia?"

"Yes. Rukia made a petition on your behalf."

"A petition?"

Rangiku waved off her seriousness with a laugh. "It's no big deal." After digging in her handbag she shoved some bills at Yachiru and watched the pink haired girl squeal and run off.

"Actually, Yachiru assigned herself to come, _but…"_ She flicked her eyes up and Orihime followed her glance. She smiled, watching Yachiru pop over the counter, startling the register attendant and sending him stumbling back into a tray of pastries. "…she's not allowed into the human world anymore without supervision… So Captain Zaraki had to come, and of course I wouldn't wish those two on _anyone's_ love life, _especially_ not one I'm so invested in…"

She turned back to see Rangiku observing her with an uncharacteristically serious glint in her otherwise smiling eyes. "Alright Orihime, spill it."

She swallowed. "W-what do you mean?"

The other woman pressed her lips and gave her a _look_, before heaving a sigh. "Clearly, something is bothering you… and _knowing_ how you do things, you'll probably just bottle it inside until you get so torn up and depressed, you'll die a lonely old virgin, because Kurosaki can't pull his head out of his—"

"R-rangiku!"

"—_So_… spill it."

Orihime looked down at her hands clasped tightly around the cup in front of her. She could see the white of her knuckles. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk about it, but she didn't know what to say. How did you tell someone that you were a complete and utter failure as a member of the female gender?

She watched Yachiru jerk a worker around by his collar, pointing at the cabinets of pastries, while she thought about what she would say. Across the table, Rangiku waited.

"It's just that… well… we sort of… you know…"

She looked up to see Rangiku's eyes widen drastically; cup frozen halfway to her mouth.

She replayed what she had just said in her head.

"Oh, no!" She waved her hands frantically. "We kissed …And that's _all_!"

The other woman thunked her coffee down, splashing the table. "It's about time!" She grinned madly, leaning forward. "How was it?"

Orihime spluttered.

"Wait. Don't tell me… let's see. I'm going to say he's more the aggressive sort. Am I right?"

She felt her mouth hang open, warmth spreading up to her face.

Rangiku just nodded.

"Yup. That's his type. Aggressive… dominant… _goal oriented_…" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Now, between you and me, you'll be especially grateful for that when—"

"Rangiku-san!" Orihime gasped, vaguely wondering if this was what people referred to as a panic attack. "You can't talk like that!"

Rangiku sat back. "Says who?" She looked around as if daring the culprit to show up out of thin air. "So…" She looked back. "…what did that poor idiot do to mess it up?"

Inoue looked away, finding it difficult to meet the other woman's eyes when they were so _knowing_.

"He didn't do anything _wrong_…" She began.

Rangiku snorted. "Save that kind of talk for someone that might actually believe it… _if_ you can find anyone."

"It's… just that he seemed to wish he hadn't…" She tried to blink away the tears that threatened. "I-It was like…" She looked up with pleading, watery eyes. "Is there something wrong with me?"

Rangiku's eyes flashed.

"Hell no! Orihime, you are one smokin' hot girl! Look at you! I mean seriously, we could be sisters after all…" She paused, taking in the smaller girl's defeated posture. This just wasn't working. She sighed. "You're feeling pretty confused right now, aren't you?"

Orihime nodded.

"Well, I think that maybe your Kurosaki-kun was feeling confused, too. I told you already, didn't I? He needs you. He just doesn't realize it yet." She smiled gently. "Orihime… men are stupid about these things. Sometimes they just need our help."

"What should I do?" She asked, absently salting her ice cream.

Rangiku watched in fascination. "Is that what that's for?" She poked at Orihime's dish, tasting it. "Hey that's good!"

"Hmm… Oh, yeah. It's the best…"

The older woman sighed deeply. Orihime seemed to have the odd ability to pull people into her emotions. She leaned over and pulled something out of her bag and dropped it onto the center of the table with a heavy thud. "This…" She placed a hand on a book. "…has the power to change your life."

Orihime blinked at the odd declaration. It didn't look very magical to her. It was hot pink with provocative looking flowers on the cover. She tilted her head and examined the spine of the book.

"The… Seductive Arsenal… of a Strong, Confident …and Well-Adjusted Woman?" She looked up uncertainly, but Rangiku's eyes were gleaming.

"Oh come on, don't look so cynical… This is the book taking Seireitei by storm!" She pushed it forward encouragingly. "It's been the book of the month for the Women's Association three months in a row. And for you; free of charge. By this time next week, you'll have him crawling behind you on a leash..." She frowned thoughtfully. "That reminds me… Do you own any leather clothing?"

Orihime shook her head mutely.

"Well, we'll have to work on that, won't we?"

"I-I'm not really sure about this…"

"Don't worry so much Orihime! You don't have to follow any advice you don't want to, and it's not like you'll be doing it alone. We can do it together!" She slammed her palm down flat on the table, bouncing coffee cups and upending salt shakers.

Orihime glanced around; aware they were earning more than their share of curious stares. Her companion was oblivious.

"It's all in Chapter One. 'Sisters Unite'!" She exclaimed, throwing herself up from the table, spoon held high in one hand, clutching the book with the other.

Orihime sat captivated. The way the lights lit up around Rangiku in her dazzling pose. She looked more beautiful than the Statue of Liberty… She clasped her hands together, awe inspired by the stunning visual effect. _Maybe she could do this…_

_No! _

She threw herself up from the table to stand in an identical pose, flashing a fist as she went. She _would_ do this! They would do it together!

"Sisters Unite!"

* * *

Ichigo slammed the door so hard that it rattled on its hinges. Another day spent berating himself over what had happened between him and Orihime. And something told him as he looked point blank into his father's face, that the old man wasn't going to leave it alone.

"My son." He greeted. "You seem upset."

Ichigo registered the instant headache as only a minor discomfort compared to his father's scrutiny of his love life.

"…Come sit on daddy's knee and tell him all about it." He threw himself into a chair and patted his knee encouragingly.

Ichigo wasn't in the mood. "Drop dead."

He heard the crack and registered the light behind his eyes at the same time. He knew this pain. It was his father's fist connecting to the side of his head. He blinked up to find his father standing over him, one foot on either wrist.

_Damn... _He was pinned. How had that happened?

Now, he actually had to sit and listen to whatever bull the old goat wanted to spew at him. And if the sparkle in his eyes implied anything; the old man knew it. "Surely, you must believe you can trust your father."

Ichigo glared at him contemptuously. He had the sneaking suspicion his father was laughing at him without actually doing so.

"You can't really say that after you just sucker punched him." Karen said coming down the stairs; gaming magazine in hand.

"What? Why not…?" His father asked, distracted.

Yuzu came in from the kitchen, clearly hearing the commotion and not wanting to be left out. "What's going on?"

"Ichi-nee's pissed and dad's trying to help. Badly." She added, just so that he didn't get the wrong idea.

He pouted slightly. "Is it so wrong for me to show concern about the well-being of my only son?"

Karen fell into a chair. "Once again… you do know that you're standing on top of him, don't you?"

Isshin looked down as if only just realizing this.

Ichigo felt his patience snap. _What the hell was with everyone today?_

"Damn it, get off!" He hooked his ankles around his father's middle and knocked him off his person and over the coffee table.

Enough was enough. He cracked his knuckles, finally glad to have an outlet for his frustration.

A partial concussion and two bruised ribs later, Ichigo finally walked into his room.

Kon was waiting, hands on hips and furry foot tapping, giving Ichigo a look that men had understood since the dawn of time. He was half tempted to check his hand for a wedding ring, because there was _no other way_ he was going to put up with something like that.

"Ichigo… you bastard! Do you have any idea what it's like in this house when you—"

He grabbed the stuffed nuisance by the head and tossed him into the hallway, slamming the door in his face, before falling head first onto the bed.

He ran a hand through his hair and flipped over to stare blankly at the ceiling.

What the hell had he been thinking to kiss Inoue like that?

He had taken advantage of the situation. She had been upset and exhausted, and he had just done whatever the hell he wanted without proper regard for that, or the danger from his hollow. She was probably furious with him… or not, considering it was her, but still..._ she should be._

He would admit that kissing her had been unexpected, but he couldn't say it was unpleasant…

It had been intense; not that he was any sort of expert, but he knew it had been startlingly heated, for him at least. A person could get obsessed with something like that. It was like a drug. He had felt both frenzied and dazed at the same time. It had eaten at his senses until there _was_ nothing else…

He growled and slung a frustrated arm over his head, cutting off the thoughts that were already beginning to stir his blood.

It had been out of control… nothing more, nothing less.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck tickle as if someone were breathing down on him.

He frowned, staring at the ceiling, but behind his eyes he saw the bleached hair and manic grin of his other half, cast against the backdrop of the sideways city.

_Bastard_, he hissed mentally, _why won't you go back down?_

The smile widened. **You already know.**

So, they were going to have _this_ conversation? Ichigo clenched his bed sheets with one hand.

_Why, her?_

**You already know…**

_Stop saying that! I don't know!_ He gritted his teeth. _Whatever it is you want, you won't get it._

**Is that so…?** The hollow was mocking him and it grated on his nerves like knuckles scraping pavement.

_I won't let you touch her_.

He heard the dark edge to his own voice and he wondered how his hollow had crept up, when he was actively _watching_ him. He fought down a shudder.

His hollow was all flickering amusement once again.

**I'll tell ya a little secret.**

He drew the words out, relishing the effect they evoked.

**I… **

**Already… **

**Have…**

Ichigo felt like ice had run down his backbone.

When…? The other day when he kissed her? Had that been his hollow's influence?

**Don't be stupid. You didn't need my help with that.**

He grinned again.

**But, she was quite tasty.**

Anger, raw and primal, flashed through him.

_You're feeding on her. _

**I told you already, don't be stupid. I don't need to pull that kind of shit. Besides… I don't share well. **

Ichigo scowled. What the hell did that mean? Some kind of stupid macho threat? Dammit, he was getting tired of this cryptic bullshit.

_What the hell do you want?_

That seemed to strike a nerve with his other half.

**How the fuck should I know?** He snarled back. **You're the one in charge here. You think it's that easy to separate your motives from mine? **

Ichigo's train of thought ground to an abrupt halt. What was his hollow playing at? He might have felt chaotic lately, but he was sure about this.

_I don't want Inoue dead… _he stated with certainty.

His hollow said nothing.

Ichigo didn't breathe. Then it clicked and the desire to laugh was almost overwhelming. That smug, underhanded bastard…

He felt his hollows mood turn dark, but he was past caring.

_After all those times you called me weak…_ He punctuated with a laugh. _You can't do it, can you? You didn't kill her… because you don't want to. _

He registered a warning growl in the back of his head, but he pressed on anyway; glad to finally have something to hold over his hollow half.

_The old man always said you two were the same… I didn't know he meant literally. _

He snorted derisively, prepared to continue mocking when he noticed that his inner world had gone still. Then without warning, it threw all of its force forward, shaking Ichigo so hard that he tumbled off the side of his bed.

He blinked stupidly.

_Whoa. Dammit…_He still had bruises from falling out of his chair _last week_, but still…

He smiled, feeling better than he had in ages, listening to his hollow drift back to wherever it was he went when he wasn't pestering Ichigo. He chuckled, feeling surprisingly free.

_Although_… He tried to sober himself. He would have to be careful from now on around Inoue. No more displays like the other day. It would be just like his hollow to try to prove him wrong. That thought wiped all traces of a smile off of his face. It had probably been a stupid thing to provoke him like that.

He sighed as he grabbed a change of clothes and headed toward the shower, reminding himself that he was still going to have to apologize to Inoue for kissing her.

* * *

A/N

You guys know what to do now, right?


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

* * *

**Authorial Notice:**

**Alright, so I haven't been getting this story out anywhere near as fast as I had hoped. I can't call it writer's block, because it's not that bad, but I will say I'm hiccuping in the actual writing of the wording. Is that the same thing?**

**Anyway…I have started a new story! Something easy that I can play around with, just until I get back where I want to be with this one. It's called Courting Darkness. Please accept it as my peace offering…**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

_Sometimes, we have the right dream at the wrong time. Sometimes there is no happy ending. And sometimes… you just have to kick fate where it hurts and make your own way. Just don't wait too long. You'd be surprised at how even a lot of time can run out…_

Orihime awoke that morning with Rangiku's parting words on her mind. There had been no doubt as to the truth of those words. Wisdom like that was a thing hard won and Orihime knew she shouldn't waste it.

She had wanted to ask the other woman about it; had wondered what had happened to make her say that like she _knew_, but as they stood saying their good byes, she hadn't. It wasn't her place. It wasn't polite to pick up memories that weren't yours and examine them.

She had just smiled and let Rangiku walk down her apartment steps. Back to another world, back to her seemingly endless supply of anesthetizing sake. It had helped cement something in Orihime's mind.

She didn't want to be alone any longer than she had to be.

She turned in her bed to see the pink bound book that rested on her nightstand. It was littered with tabbies and dog-eared pages, because Orihime was -or had been- a good student.

She couldn't believe how much she hadn't known about relationships; especially how much work had to go into them. Body language, what to say, how to act… and then there was the constant battle of the sexes…

Why had no one ever told her _that_ before?

She really had failed at being a woman. She had been letting everyone down and she hadn't even realized it…

She shook her head fiercely.

There was no time to sit around moping when there was so much to be done. That was the Orihime of yesterday. Today she didn't have the luxury of sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She had a man to catch.

She whipped her fluffy covers back with a flourish. She had to do this for female-kind everywhere! Now was the time to be strong… Now was the time to make her move!

She leapt to her feet, motivated, only to yelp when they met with ice cold floor.

_Right… but first things, first… _

Number one… socks.

She dug around in her drawer until she found a pair of fluffy white socks and slipped them on.

Number two… save the world from male imposed stereotypes. Not that she had any idea _how_ she was going to do that, but she was being optimistic that the right opportunity would present itself.

Three was Kurosaki-kun.

Orihime faltered for a moment before chiding herself.

It was easy enough. Or at least, it had sounded easy when she had practiced it last night. And really, how hard could it be? All she was supposed to do was to get his attention and then _keep it_. She nodded resolutely. It all sounded simple enough.

She padded into her closet and emerged with a carefully selected outfit. She wrinkled her nose at it. Rangiku had picked it out last night and she didn't understand it. Orihime's school uniform was more revealing than this and yet she had insisted that this would make Ichigo 'sit up take notice'.

_Whatever that meant…_

The older woman had picked out _everything_ that Orihime would be wearing for the next month, even though she had tried to refuse, saying that she could manage. Rangiku had looked personally offended and had tickled Orihime senseless until she had finally submitted.

She tilted her head looking at her newly organized closet.

Sometimes, Rangiku was a steamroller.

Inoue tugged the clothes on and looked at herself in the mirror. And she _still_ didn't understand it. Not that she hadn't been relieved at the modest choice, but she had thought Rangiku would have been more _frivolous_. Instead she stood in a bright blue sweater and a pair of capris. Perfectly decent.

She sighed, resigning this to be one of those things that she would just _not get_.

Turning to her dresser she grabbed a brush and ran it through her hair before dabbing on some perfume Rangiku had found lodged in a box in the back of her closet. Orihime had honestly forgotten it was there, she didn't usually wear scents, but once again, Rangiku was outraged.

She sighed. There had been a lot of that last night…

Glancing at the clock, Orihime gasped. She was late. Spinning around she located her shoes and jerked them on, bouncing from foot to foot and out the door.

* * *

Ichigo paced on the door step of the Urahara Shouten. He had been hoping to catch Orihime before the meeting, but it looked like she was running late. He resisted the urge to check his watch again. It wouldn't do any good. He had long since decided to hone in on her spiritual pressure and even if he wasn't the best at it, he knew she was on the way. He turned at the sound of light footfalls racing through the gate and lost his scowl.

Coming up the path was Inoue, just _not quite_ how he was used to seeing her. His mind zeroed in on the difference without his conscious permission.

Her clothing was quite a bit more_ constricting_ than she usually wore.

He blinked noting that her light sweater seemed to cling to her now obviously, _curvy_ form, and as she sprung up the path, his eyes fell to the mesmerizing bounce of her—

Ichigo snapped his eyes back up to her face and clamped his jaw shut; sure he was blushing to the tips of his hair. Somewhere inside him, he felt his hollow perking up, finally interested in something Ichigo was doing. He cleared his throat trying to find his voice, all thoughts of private conversation pushed aside. He heard, more than saw, her come to a stop in front of him, because he had_ not _been looking.

"Kurosaki-kun…?"

Noting the slight question in her tone, he hazarded a glance.

She shifted where she stood, and he realized his odd actions had made her nervous. Mentally kicking himself, he set out to put her back at ease. This whole thing had been his fault anyway. There was no reason that she should be made to feel more uncomfortable than he had already made her.

"Inoue. Uh, you're here…" He mentally groaned. _So lame…_

She answered him anyway.

"Yes…I'm sorry that I'm late. Have you been waiting long?" She glanced up at him shyly, while smoothing her shirt back down over her hips. He was vaguely aware that his eyes were following the path of her hands.

At her nervous fidgeting, he felt like an ass all over again. Ichigo shook his head, trying to clear the unexpected thoughts.

_How had he managed to get this worked up…? _

She wasn't even _doing_ anything and here he was _ogling_ at her like some sort of pervert. It wasn't right… _especially,_ after he had thrown her away like that. He didn't _get_ to have these kinds of thoughts. It wasn't fair to her. But then again… none of this had been fair to her.

He blew out a breath. Never mind if everyone was waiting on them. It was time to fix this.

He looked up at her, carefully training his eyes on her face and _only_ her face. "Look… about the other day, Inoue. I'm really—"

"You don't have to do that." She said, cutting him off, causing him to draw up short.

_Huh? She didn't want him to apologize? But…He had been such a dick…_

She gave him another smile and he thought that it looked vaguely mysterious. Ichigo swallowed. Although, if she were offering him some sort of reprieve, maybe he shouldn't be questioning it. _Perhaps,_ he should just be grateful that she was such a tolerant person.

_Still…_ He felt like he owed her _something_.

But she wasn't waiting on him.

He blinked realizing that she had already passed by and entered the shop, leaving him to trail after her. He frowned at her back, wondering if he was getting the cold shoulder or just imagining it. Once again his eyes fell to the gentle sway of her hips before he could think to stop them.

He smacked a hand over his eyes and blew out a frustrated sigh, trying to block out the appreciative comments in the back of his head.

_What was with him today?_

He wasn't going to start falling all over himself every time she was around _just_ because they had one kiss, was he? No way in hell. He did not spend his time leering at women, dammit.

He took one more much needed breath before stalking after her into the Shouten.

* * *

Urahara Kisuke twirled his fan, watching Ichigo stealing furtive glances at Orihime from across the table, while she sat seemingly oblivious on the other side.

_Well, well… doesn't this usually go the other way around?_

He observed the group of his young comrades sitting around the table. They had been having a difficult couple of months from the sound of it, and even the quincy's usually sterling appearance was somewhat marred.

Grimacing, he watched Rukia lightly stroking the cover of her dearly loved pager. That kind of obsession _couldn't_ end well... Earlier he had made the miscalculation of suggesting she simply replace it. She had replied that the only way she would ever relinquish her pager would be to stick it so far up his—_place…_ that he would need the entire fourth division and the kidou squad to remove it…

She looked up and he caught the lethal and slightly manic glaze in her eyes. Feeling a shiver work its way down his spine, he quickly moved on.

Yasutora was also stroking a small white creature, only his happened to be in the form of a small, fluffy and bedraggled kitten. It dangled by its claws from one massive hand, until Chad scooped it up in the other one and held it comfortingly close to his chest. He shook his head as he watched the giant pet its head with one colossal finger.

Next was Ichigo, who seemed to be paying as little attention to the conversation as everyone else, aside from Uryu, who was somehow managing to carry the entire exchange single-handed. On cue, amber eyes glanced over to a perfectly composed Orihime Inoue. Kisuke watched him shift uncomfortably before, deliberately looking away from her again.

He arched an eyebrow, wondering what could have prompted their little role reversal.

_It would appear he was out of the loop. _

He frowned, puzzled. He _hated_ being out of the loop.

He sighed and tilted his head to the side, because really, there was only one thing he could do when confronted with such a potentially entertaining situation like this one.

He resisted the urge to cackle and steeple his fingers; instead he caught his fan and fluttered it open in front of his face, hiding a grin. As with any experiment, the first step was to construct a theory; then to test out that theory and analyze the results… and if that didn't work, usually a few well-placed jabs with a large stick always got _some_ sort of reaction.

Although, if he was being honest with himself, he already knew that since it was _Kurosaki_, he should probably just _start_ with the stick. His smile widened behind his fan before he snapped it shut, effectively drawing attention back to himself.

Five pairs of wide blinking eyes turned toward him, and for just a second their looks of innocent curiosity pricked his conscience…

Then, he reminded himself that he would be alive for a long, long time and he was also quite prone to boredom. It was always best to take his fun where he could get it.

Ichigo sat across the table from Urahara and wondered, not for the first time, how it was that the man always left him feeling like he had just performed a series of small pre-conditioned responses. It wasn't that he didn't trust him, he actually trusted him more than was commonly considered wise, but from time to time the man could be downright _shady_.

Like now, for instance…

"And let me guess… You all want to know if I had something to do with these hollow attacks." He tapped his fan on his chin and then gave them an innocent smile, unfazed when their looks turned deadpan. "_Surely, you know I have better things to do all day, than to spy on you people… I am merely a simple, reputable__—"_

"Semi-reputable" Rukia interjected.

"—_semi-reputable, attractive, humble shop keeper. I'm afraid my time doesn't allow_—"

Ichigo felt they were in danger of losing control of the situation.

"Alright, already." He cut in. "Do you have any ideas?"

Kisuke eyed him thoughtfully. "Perhaps"

It was Rukia that answered, impatience leaking into her voice. "And would you care to share them…?"

Ichigo watched the exchange with only mild interest. If Urahara said he wasn't behind this, than he was _probably_ telling the truth. _But, dammit…_that meant that there was still some sort of deranged psycho out there somewhere.

The same psycho that had hit Inoue.

He ground his teeth together, determined not to think about it. Even weeks later it _still_ sent his hollow into fits; still sent cautiously placed barriers crumbling.

He felt the lightest brush of a hand across his leg, before small fingers wrapped around his knee and squeezed.

Ichigo jumped violently, slamming his knees into the table, as the fingers hit the one spot on his body that was undeniably ticklish. He felt something that sounded distressingly like a cross between a yelp and a nervous giggle leave the back of his throat.

Everyone turned his direction.

He flushed and barely fought the intense need to look down at the girl beside him.

Uryu was the first to recover. Pressing his glasses up his nose, he twisted his mouth. "Did you have something to say, Kurosaki?"

Having tuned the conversation out some time ago, Ichigo wasn't quite sure what they were talking about. "Shut it, bastard."

He turned to see the blond shop keeper following his movements with interest and tried to squash the desire to fidget under that calculating gaze, but Urahara turned towards Orihime. "I think I would like to meet this little tutor of yours, Inoue-san."

The girl beside him seemed to shake herself. "…Yuri-chan? Why?"

"Just a curiosity… As for the other incidents, both the hollow attacks and these little _diversions_, not to mention the assault on your friend, it's very likely that we'll find these things are connected."

Uryu leaned forward. "That's quite a jump, don't you think?"

Kiskue blinked at him then continued on a different tract. "For now however, it would seem you should be careful Inoue-san. If you have indeed attracted the attention of this creature or creatures, it might already know where you are…"

Ichigo's head snapped up.

"_What?_ …_Be careful_?" He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "_That's_ your advice…?"

Kisuke's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I suppose…" He drawled out. "…she could be watched—"

Orihime fluttered her hands. "I don't want to be any trouble."

"Don't be ridiculous." Ichigo answered. "What are you going to do if they come back?"

She stuck a finger under her chin.

Kiskue pounced.

"How generous of you to volunteer, Kurosaki-san!"

"Huh?" Ichigo frowned. He hadn't agreed to that.

Beside him Inoue was stuttering wordlessly.

_Dammit… _That sneaky, blond devil was ambushing him.

His scowl deepened. There was no way he could tell them that she was actually _less_ safe with him. But what were the other options?

He looked over to see Chad and Uryu watching him, and then sighed. Sometimes…just sometimes, he wondered if he could take Urahara if he _really, really_ wanted to.

Then his mind hit on a thought and he clutched it for dear life, trying to remove himself from the potentially hazardous situation.

"I-I can't stay at Inoue's. It's completely irresponsible!"

The girl beside him began choking on air. Rukia pounded her back.

"I'm sure that I don't know what you mean…" Kiskue flicked open his fan nonchalantly. "I merely suggested you watch her, not spend the night."

Ichigo squawked indignantly before throwing himself to his feet and pointing an accusing finger. "That's not what I meant you pervert!"

Uryu stood. "It seems any serious conversation is over."

"Mmm…" Chad answered.

One by one the others began filing out. Ichigo, still fuming, waited for Inoue, resisting the urge to pluck her up by the arm and drag her away.

* * *

"Oh, Inoue-san? Could you stay a minute?"

Orihime turned back and by the door Ichigo paused, eyes flicking between Inoue and Urahara.

"Alone, Kurosaki-san."

Orihime watched as Ichigo let himself out of the parlor, scowling. She felt the corners of her lips lift, before remembering her host. She turned back. "Umm…yes?"

He reached up and removed his hat before answering her, setting it in front of him. She shuffled her feet.

"How have you been, Inoue-san?"

Although the question was spoken lightly, it sounded ominous. She tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, uncertain how to respond. She knew that wasn't really what he was asking. "I…I've been ok."

He studied her. "Tired?"

She looked at him, and then remembered to smile.

"I must look like such a mess for everyone to keep asking me that..." She scratched her head. "It's weird though, I'm sleeping now more than usual…"

He nodded. "I couldn't help but notice, that there was an _unusual_ spiritual pressure the other night."

She stiffened. So someone _had_ felt it. She frowned, trying to shake the feeling that she needed to be careful of what she said. Urahara-san wasn't the enemy. She knew that. He had only ever helped them. _So, why couldn't she shake the feeling that she needed to hide this?_

"It was around the area you were attacked." Again, he measured her response before continuing. "You didn't happen to see anything out of the ordinary_,_ did you?"

Orihime felt her hands shaking by her sides and vaguely wished that she had worn one of her skirts so that she could hide them. What should she say? If she told him that Kurosaki-kun's hollow had gotten free, what would happen? Would it get him in trouble? Would they lock him up? Say that he was dangerous?

She drew in a deep breath and tried to calm her racing thoughts. She was getting carried away. Urahara had never been anything but their _friend_. He wouldn't do something so terrible. He had helped them. He had helped _her_.

But still…It wasn't her secret to tell.

She focused on a loose string in the carpet, feeling guilt winding and crawling in the pit of her stomach.

When her voice came out it was small, barely above a whisper. "No, I didn't."

Orihime couldn't look up to meet his eyes. She had a feeling what she would see. There was no way he would believe such an obvious lie; all she could do was wait to see if he let it slide. She tried to keep her breathing even. In her stomach, her guilt curled tighter.

"I see…" Then he was all smiles and his hat was back in place. _"Well that's a relief! For a minute I was worried, but clearly for nothing! Thank you for your time Inoue-san!"_

She dropped a hasty bow and backed out of the room quickly, shutting the door behind her; hands still shaking.

She let out the breath she had been holding and turned to see Ichigo.

Shock immobilized her body. He was looking right at her. How long had it been since he had met her eyes so directly? She didn't need to ask to know that he had heard everything.

His jaw was tight, eyes deep and laced with complicated emotions. He looked away. Orihime tried to remember how to breathe. Then he was taking her hand and leading her out of the shop.

She blinked in the afternoon sunlight, not sure how she had gotten outside when she couldn't even feel her legs. He released her hand and she felt the world come back to her. She crossed her arms around herself, feeling devoid of warmth.

She should say something. Apologize for her lying, maybe. She wrapped her arms tighter.

Yes…she really _should_ apologize.

She was glad he wasn't looking when she tried. "Kurosaki-kun…"

"I'll take you home." He cut in, turning to look at her.

She nodded, for once completely unable to read his eyes. She didn't know why, but she was at once saddened and pleased that the gap between them over the last several days seemed to be closing. It occurred to her that he was waiting for her to start moving.

She walked down the pathway. He followed; hands in pockets, still giving her his odd look. They were halfway to her apartment before he broke the silence.

"I'm sorry..."

"What?" Orihime looked at him startled.

He cleared his throat, glanced at her then away again. "It's my fault you're in this situation at all…I really screwed up."

"N-no... don't say that." She had no previous thoughts of speaking, before the words were spilling out of her mouth. "You didn't know." He winced at that, but she pressed on. "…And sometimes, things happen and it's no one's fault and so you shouldn't beat yourself up about it and…"

He shut his eyes, drowning in her words, because he _had_ known. He had known all of it. He had _known_ and he had put her in danger anyway.

And she was _defending_ him. Again.

Her words were suddenly suffocating; pushing him down, burying him alive.

Ichigo reached out and shook her shoulders, as gently as possible, until she was silent again. He gave her a look that he hoped left no room for argument. "Inoue, I really am sorry."

He spoke to her as if she were a small child, as if she wouldn't get it if he didn't speak very slowly. But instead of feeling offended, all she could think of was that his hands felt firm and warm on her shoulders. He was looking her in the eye and touching her, and she wasn't sure why she should feel so surprised by that. Kurosaki-kun might be untouchable, but she had seen him initiate contact often. So she really shouldn't be surprised that he was _still_ holding on to her and_ still_ looking in her eyes.

It was odd though, something about him always seemed to say 'These are the lines. Do not cross.'

Yet here they were…and she was sure they were crossing all sorts of lines.

She swallowed.

A passerby bumped into her, jostling their quiet world back into reality. He stepped back, dropping his hands.

"We should get you home."

* * *

The girl raced around the wrought iron gate of the darkened park, determined to reach the heart of the city and the many people that walked the streets there at night. With pale blond hair flying, she lept over a five foot cement wall without difficulty, never slowing.

She glanced over her shoulder, narrowing her red-brown eyes. They didn't like to chase. She picked up her speed.

* * *

Orihime tried not to fidget too obviously under Rukia's interested scrutiny. The girls sat in their favorite spot, under the trees eating lunch.

The auburn haired girl shifted again.

Rukia's eyes narrowed. "He didn't say _anything_ about it? Are you sure?"

She swallowed the large bite she had been working on. "I'm really sure. I think he forgot."

Purple eyes were wide and indignant. "You _finally_ make a move… and he _forgot_?" She looked around, before turning back to Inoue. "Well, that's unacceptable!" Rukia tightened a small fist and brandishing it at an orange haired boy that was nowhere in sight. "W-well you've got to go bigger! Grab his butt or tackle him or..." She threw her hands up. "I don't know. Use your imagination!"

Orihime blinked.

"Wow, Kuchiki-san! That's the best impression of Rangiku-san I've ever seen!"

She watched the other girl flinch.

"Eh… thanks." She sighed rubbing her chin. "What kind of a dumbass is he? It's not human to be so dense…"

Orihime flustered. "I think Kurosaki-kun is really smart."

Rukia erupted into laughter, only to stifle it at the other girls frown. "You're not joking, are you?"

The small shinigami gathered her wits. "Alright, have no fear. I will help you..." She smiled, holding out her hand in a gesture appropriate to her benevolent attitude. "…to capture that idiot—'' Rukia quickly corrected herself. "Uh…that…that…"

She didn't seem able to come up with something non-derogatory.

"Kurosaki-kun." Orihime supplied.

Rukia shrugged. "Sure."

* * *

A/N

Yay! Responses!

Krispy Donuts- Thank you so much! And I know… Ichigo can be a real butt sometimes. Still, it's part of his charm, I think.

Chuchootrain- I'm so glad you like it! Don't worry, I have lots more angst on the way, _and_ hollow Ichi is soon to make another appearance. You know I wasn't sure about him as a character at first, but I have to say, I think he's grown to be one of my favorites. Thanks for your reviews!

Seporach- Wow! That is a lot of exclamation points. No worries though, I do that too when I get excited! Thanks for your many encouraging reviews!

MeggzieofHyrule- Glad you like it!

xShirochanx- Thank you so very much! I emailed the chapters you requested to the address listed on your account. I hope you got them ok.

Crystal Dawn- Oh, what to say to the fantastic and fantastically talented Crystal Dawn?

I giggled like a child when I saw your review; because I almost didn't post, I was so busy reading on your updates. The answer is no, I'd worry if you said_ you_ wanted to get advice on your love life from Zaraki Kenpachi. As it is, watching horrible things happen to someone else is just time well spent :)

X3sn0w- Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are too sweet! I love Rukia, too! She is just an awesome character to write! Promise, I'll try not to make you wait too long to see what happens. Thanks!

Somerlia- Lol, no joke. Ichigo is an ass, but it's so much fun to watch him self-destruct, isn't it? Thanks for all your support on this story with your many, many reviews!

Nypsy- You are the best! Also, I saw that you found my other story. Seriously, you make my day! Please have my babies!

IceFire Dragon Alchemist73- That is one long name. Thanks so much for your review! I hope you like it!

Luvtousall- Oh, my god! I _love _your reviews! You tell me exactly what lines you like, and I can't tell you what that does to me, especially, when it's a line I really had to work at. Seriously, every time I see that you've left a review it's like -BAM- joygasm. No joke. You are awesome.

Halfdemonfan- I know! It's taking me forever to get this out. I'm so sorry to leave you that way! But… I'm super glad that you like it so much. Thanks for telling me it wasn't rough, that really made me feel better about it.

And yeah, poor Ichigo has trouble interpreting nonverbal communication… sad for him, fun for all of us that like to torture him with it. :) I promise not to make the whole seduction thing too painful, though. Thanks for being so awesome and letting me know exactly how you feel about it. It's so helpful!

Akari- Thanks! No, worries… I haven't dropped anything, all shall be revealed in time. And, yes! I plan on having lots of sexy goodies coming up! Thanks so much for your review!

Krishyana- Wow, just wow… that is one of the nicest reviews I've ever gotten! Thanks so much for all of your nice compliments! I can't tell you how much it helps me to know exactly what lines you liked best. That is just the most awesome thing you can do in a review and I appreciate it so much! Thank you!

If I left anyone out I'm very sorry!

Also, I only did recent reviews, sorry!


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

* * *

**Authorial Notice:**

**Ehem… As it happens, I haven't had a whole lot of time to write lately, so updating has turned into a real bitch. What that means is that even though I'm trying to edit myself, there will be typos. Happily, there have already been typos throughout this entire thing anyway, so you probably won't notice. **

**Good god, that's lame. But I don't care, because **_**update! **_**Yay! Who rocks? Yeah, it's me.**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Ichigo glanced up at the girl he was walking home. She seemed to be having some sort of conversation with herself.

His lips twitched as she hunched her shoulders, alternating between biting her thumb and wrinkling her nose. The gesture made her look impish and coy in a way he might find attractive_ if_ he was thinking about her like that, which he wasn't.

They were back to walking home together, which was a relief, partly because she really _did_ need to be watched, partly because he had gotten used to it and missed it when it was gone.

She muttered something before blushing furiously, and then glancing at him over her shoulder. She smiled when she saw he was looking at her. More blushing. As she slowed to let him catch up, he watched her hair twirl in the wind behind her.

All in all, it was a curious phenomenon.

They had been walking in this same pattern for the last fifteen minutes. She would get lost in her own thoughts, start talking to herself, move ahead and then noticing, she would slow and let him catch up. It was oddly enticing, and even though he was curious to know what was going on in her head, he was starting to get dizzy.

From a few feet in front of him, Inoue looked over her shoulder again, and he reached out just in time to tug her out of the path of an impending light pole. She rewarded him with another one of those mysterious smiles she had recently developed, before facing forward again. Her skirt swished behind her and Ichigo was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm.

In the privacy of his head, his hollow snorted.

Ichigo cursed.

"Did you say something, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Uh, nothing important... You have a lot on your mind today." He turned the conversation quickly and watched the blush that lit up her cheeks. That got his attention.

_Just what _had_ she been thinking about?_

To his annoyance, his hollow actually responded.

**She's up to something.**

The suspicion and weariness in the words caught Ichigo off guard.

_The hell? How do _you_ know?_

Ichigo frowned and contemplated ignoring it, when an uneasy chuckling sprang up from the girl beside him. He studied her nervous movements for a moment, before realizing that he was genuinely curious.

**Are you fuckin' stupid on purpose? I watch. She's up to something.**

Ichigo frowned again.

It was_ Inoue_. What could she possibly be up to? She was way too innocent to be tricky. More importantly, why should his hollow even _care_, much less sound anxious about it?

**You got a short memory? Already forget about her feeling you up?**

Oh, shit.

He _had_ forgotten. He felt his cheeks heat up, before he forced himself calm; fighting it back.

_Shut it. That was hardly feeling me up. And it's_ _Inoue._

He was starting to feel like a broken record.

_It was just some sort of mistake._

…**right.**

Beside him, Orihime chattered on, blissfully unaware of the verbal bludgeoning between him and his internal self.

"Oh, I was just thinking about…_things_." She waved her hands around in a dismissive motion. "Nothing important!"

He looked at her, taken back by the dismissal. Usually, the trick was to get Orihime to _stop_ talking about her fantasies.

**Told you, dumbass.**

Ichigo scoffed mentally.

_That doesn't mean anything…_

"Like what?" He said out loud.

He tried to sound more relaxed than he felt. From the corner of his eye, he watched her tense up.

"Uh…uh…_girl_ things!" Orihime nodded and visibly congratulated herself.

At her frightening proclamation, Ichigo forgot to take the next step and barely avoided falling on his face. When a girl said _girl things_, experience usually told him to run. He felt his hollow raise an eyebrow at his reaction, and he wished he could strangle the bastard.

**What the hell are **_**girl things**_**?**

Ichigo slapped a hand to his face.

_Just… shut up._

He walked her up the steps of the apartment building and watched her search for keys.

With one hand fishing in her bag, she began mumbling again. Ichigo found himself surreptitiously leaning closer in an attempt to hear what she was saying, when she abruptly spun around with a determined glint in her eyes. He reached up and touched his nose to make sure it was still there.

"Say, Kurosaki-kun… could you… help me with my homework?"

When she fluttered her lashes, his brain stalled.

…**up to something.**

He ignored it. "Don't you have a tutor already?"

Orihime wrinkled her nose and scratched her head. "Dang it. I forgot about that."

She bit her thumb, looking cunningly thoughtful.

**Alright, here's the deal. When she opens the door, push 'er inside. Then, don't let her out 'til we know what the fuck she's up to…**

Ichigo spluttered. "What the _hell?_ That's a terrible plan!"

In front of him, Orihime froze with wide eyes.

He flinched.

_Dammit….Did he say that out loud?_

**You're such a retard.**

He swallowed as Inoue leaned in close to his face, examining him as a bead of sweat made its way down the back of his neck. She looked back and forth between his eyes. For a split second, he had the irrational fear that she could see through him; see his inner hollow.

Then she blinked.

"I didn't know you were a telepath, Kurosaki-kun."

He was surprised his legs didn't give out.

_...Huh? _

She pouted. "Ahhh… that's so unfair…"

* * *

Ichigo walked through his front door and closed it quietly behind him, trying not to attract unwanted attention. Specifically, his father's unwanted attention.

Kicking off his shoes, he noticed a package on the ground under the mail slot and reached down and picked it up. It was slim and not too heavy. He glanced down at the name and wasn't surprised to see it addressed to his father. His eyes flitted over the sender and he dropped it like he had just discovered anthrax. It hit the floor with a dull thud.

He took a step back, just to be safe.

"Is that you, brother?" Yuzu walked around corner. "Oh! Is that it?"

Ichigo watched as his sister swooped down on the package, torn between throwing himself on it or away from it. He settled for motionless shock.

"It came! Oh, Daddy, it's here!"

She ripped the paper away to reveal a bright pink book with white flowers, then plopped herself on the couch and opened the book with another squeal. From the back of the house he could hear movement; probably his father. The cover of the book read, The Seductive Arsenal of a Strong, Confident, and Well-Adjusted Woman.

_What the…?_

"Y-you can't have that! It's a dirty book!"

Engrossed in her excitement she didn't even acknowledge his comment. The suggestive white flowers winked and glittered at him from the front cover. Ichigo fought the urge to be sick as his father came in through the kitchen.

"Oh, ho, ho! We got it, did we? Let daddy have a look…"

He gaped at his father, feeling his blood pressure rising to dangerous levels.

"You _knew_ about this?" He waved an accusing finger in Yuzu's general direction. Why was it that the stupid man couldn't just do something normal? Or responsible.

His father scratched his chin and regarded Ichigo with a look that seemed to question his own paternity. "Well, she wouldn't have the money to buy it for herself, now, would she? Come, son... It's a modern world. It's what any father would do."

For a moment all he could do was stare in stunned astonishment.

Then.

"No, it's not! No one acts like this!"

"Brother, you're being very closed minded." Yuzu said, with a chilling quality to her voice he had never noticed before.

"What?" Surely, he had misheard.

"Don't worry my sweet daughter. He's just jealous that he will never make as wonderful a young lady as you do…"

He tried to ignore as much of that sentence as possible. "That book _won't_ teach her how to be a lady! Damn it, are you listening to me?"

They had huddled on the couch with their backs toward him. He could hear whispering.

"Hey! What are you two talking about over there?"

Karen let herself in the front, soccer ball in hand, and took in the situation with a look of bored resignation. His relief at having backup was palpable.

Ichigo directed her attention to the couch with a pointed finger. And damn it, thiswasn't considered_ tattling_. She looked at the huddled figures and then back at him again, not getting it; then arched an eyebrow as if to say 'so what'.

He felt his neck twitch toward his shoulder and wondered if that was normal for someone his age.

Somebody needed to take _responsibility_. Clearly, that wasn't going to be his father. He watched the old man giggling with Yuzu on the far end of the couch. From beside him Karen was giving him _that look_, which was probably a slight on his mental capacity. Which all things considered, he should probably be questioning himself, except…

"Damn it!" He stamped his foot in a display of his deep displeasure. "_Somebody better tell me why Urahara is sending my little sister dirty books!"_

* * *

The pencil fell from his loosened fingers and clattered onto the open textbook. He stared at the hand in front of him for moment before trying to wiggle his fingers. They wiggled. A fierce and manic grin curved his lips as he pushed himself away from the desk and stood.

The feet were trickier than the fingers, but he had little trouble coercing them to do as he wished. He tilted his head at the odd feel of his own weight. It would take some getting used to, but nothing he couldn't handle. After all, if _that_ bastard could do it, he could. Besides, it would be worth all sorts of trouble if it worked out…and he intended to make sure that it did.

He spotted a mirror beside the closet and made his way over to it, concentrating on making the movement smooth. Standing before it, his reflection greeted him with an unnerving smile. It was perfect. He raised a hand and pressed it to his cheek before fingering the long locks of orange hair that hung just over his nose.

Looking into the face, Ichigo's eyes stared back, mahogany brown against milky white.

His grin turned feral, showing teeth. This was what he had been after. This was the ultimate goal, attaining control of the corporeal body. This was freedom. Now he could be his own master. That fool had underestimated him. Ichigo had assumed that it would be impossible for his hollow to take over this way.

He sneered. How he had ever fallen to such a pathetic and stupid king was beyond him. The boy lived in a fantasy world; a world where all his friends were happy and safe. And he truly believed it. Never acknowledging the danger until it was too late. Not focusing on how it could all come tumbling down at a moment's notice.

Well, he wanted it to come down. He wanted to watch it fall, never to be rebuilt again. He wanted to destroy everything, so that there would be no going back. So that he could see that stupid fuck, whimper and beg and break. And when he was finished with him, he would be so beyond repair, that he would never be able to regain control.

And he would start with the girl.

He pulled off the night clothes that Ichigo had put on after his shower and turned to the closet. The first shirt he pulled out was white. He frowned at it, before tossing it aside. He wanted _color_.

Finding a red, long-sleeved shirt, he pulled it over his head and threw on the first pair of jeans he found, growling at the restricting feel of denim. He looked back at the mirror and tilted his head. Something was still off. He frowned in concentration. A watch on the desk caught his attention and he slipped it on, and then ruffled his hair.

Perfect.

* * *

If anyone had asked Orihime, she would have said that she had known it was stupid to open the door. But in reality, she hadn't. Not really. She hadn't even been thinking about it. She simply heard a light rapping and had opened the door with a smile. If you had asked Orihime, she would have said that the knock had made her do it. She would have said it was a friendly knock; a happy little staccato rhythm tapped in time to her favorite humming song.

The truth was Orihime hadn't thought twice about opening the door. Not until she saw the orange hair. Not until she saw Ichigo's eyes.

She had only a moment to take in his relaxed, almost lazy posture before he was pressing her into a wall. The only thing Orihime knew right away was that even though his hollow was apparently good at playing him, this wasn't Kurosaki-kun.

He released her almost immediately. She slid away from the wall, seeing him step back and close the door with one hand, never taking his eyes off her. He locked it.

Swallowing, she tried not to flinch away as he came back toward her. She was so used to him moving quickly, that his slow approach froze her like a mouse caught in a viper's stare.

But something was off.

"Your eyes are brown…" She said, barely aware the words had actually left her mouth. The hollow's mask and eyes might have been frightening, but without them, she was easily distracted by his face. He looked too much like Ichigo this way. Orihime wished for the mask. The wall came up behind her again. He smiled down at her backed up against it.

"Didn't I tell you, _Hime-chan_? I'm not _like_ those other bastards."

She closed her eyes at the sound of Ichigo's voice, dark and low, with a hint of barely restrained violence. _This is not happening. He should not be able to talk with Kurosaki-kun's voice. _

It wasn't fair. How was she supposed to be able to think straight? Opening her eyes, she saw him trailing one hand through the long locks of her hair, watching strands fall away. Meeting her eyes, he gave it a sharp tug, wordlessly demanding her full attention. Somehow he had gotten close enough that her chest threatened to brush his with every deep breath.

Reaching up with the other hand, he tapped a finger against the side of his head.

"That stuff is for weaklings. So I got rid of it."

It seemed he was capable of a fair amount of rational conversation, but his tone gave the distinct impression that he was playing with her head.

Reaching out, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, eyes carefully following it. She knew what would come next. Was disturbed by how much she _wanted_ it. Carefully distracting, she asked the first question that came to mind.

"How?"

The hollow tilted his head, watching her. She couldn't read his expression, but there was a sharpness that made her wonder if she hadn't been as careful with her diversion as she intended.

He was toying with her.

The thought came out of nowhere, even as she looked down stupidly, to see his fingers playing across her stomach.

Or more like studying her, she realized, exploring every exposed patch of skin and whatever else about her that caught his interest. The hollow was analyzing her like he would size up an enemy or battle. He was_ learning_ her.

The thought sent shivers down her spine and raised the hair on her arms.

He smiled and without warning, caught her around the back of the neck, pulling her in and ensnaring her bottom lip between his teeth. Unlike the last time, he didn't hesitate. He took full advantage of her surprised gasp to deepen his assault.

Every time his mouth moved against hers, tingles sparked through her lips and down her jaw. His free hand came up to shove her back into the wall in a display of dominance she was sure was unnecessary. Orihime couldn't have fought it anyway. She heard her own whimpering, wild and uncontrolled in a way that should have scared her. But it only seemed to encourage him, and he forced her harder into the wall with his body flush against hers.

No longer needing to subdue her with his hands, they traveled, leaving devastating electrical currents in their wake. Splayed fingers slid down her stomach then around to grasp the curved flesh of her hip. She shuddered under it. Her light cotton tank and shorts suddenly seemed heavy and oppressive. His hand brushed the underside of one breast and she yelped at the spike of sensation, using his distraction to break free.

Orihime ducked under his arm and backed away, thoughtlessly touching her mouth. He seemed thrown by the interaction, like he needed time to process it. It dawned on her that all of this was new to him. It was new to her as well, but she had seen enough television and magazines to know at least some of what went on between a man and a woman. Not that she understood it.

Her foot slipped on something soft and plush. She had been watching him instead of her feet. Orihime landed on her backside with a thump. A couch pillow lay innocently under her legs and she frowned at it reproachfully.

There was a shifting in the air and Orihime looked up to see him watching her again, unwilling to have his prize out of sight. She recoiled as he moved; finally understanding that he had only let her go to draw out the chase. Now he was silently stalking her as she scrambled back.

"When we lose our hearts…" He answered her earlier question, shifting focus without missing a beat. "…we become purely visceral."

Crouching in front of her, he snared an ankle and used it to pull her toward him. The look in his eyes made something low in her belly clench and she hoped it was just fear. She wondered why he would even condescend to tell her these things. Fine tremors were spreading through her limbs and she was sorry she had ever asked.

"But see, I have this body and a nice little human heart all wrapped up inside, tucked away, safe and sound." While he spoke, he traced a finger slowly up and down one leg from ankle to mid-thigh. "Not that he would let me get at it..." He smiled a vicious smile and Orihime didn't ask _why_ he wanted at Ichigo's heart. She could guess.

Grabbing her chin, he tilted her face back to look him in the eye. With the other hand he placed her palm over his chest. She could feel the warm pulse under her fingertips and everything clicked into place, even as he painstakingly explained it out.

"I don't _need_ a mask. I don't need to eat souls. I'm pretty complete as it is, _Princess_. But trust me, that doesn't mean I'm not hungry for other things." His tone of voice made it clear what those other things were.

She slapped him hard across the face, snapping his head to the side. And he just sat there for a moment, silently contemplating his stinging cheek.

But before he could come to terms with her being capable of violence, she fled. Or at least tried to. She registered the iron grasp on her wrists even as they were hauled up and over her head. Flipping her onto her back he mounted her; letting Orihime struggle until she wore herself out and lay beneath him, panting and defeated.

When she had worked up the courage to look up at him, his eyes were closed and he was breathing hard. She thought she saw his lips move and realized he was counting.

"What, _exactly_…" He ground out between clenched teeth. "was that for?"

What she had been thinking at that moment now eluded her, but she was sure it was something she had read. She hazarded a guess. "My body isn't for your pleasure?"

He blinked, showing a surprising amount of restraint. Maybe she shouldn't have hit him.

He gave her a gleaming smile. "Is that so?"

Orihime felt her eyes widen. Or maybe she should have hit him harder. She didn't trust the look in his eyes or the feelings working their way down her body. She needed to get away.

Starting to struggle in earnest, she threw her weight back and forth, trying to wiggle out from under him. He picked her up by the hands and slammed her back down, smacking her head against the hardwood and effectively silencing her. It seemed like she had breached some sort of no hitting rule and now that she had, the gloves had come off.

While she waited for her head to stop spinning, he went back to work on her mouth with a new intensity. One hand still held her arms, but the other dug into her thigh and the flesh on her hip with bruising force, causing her tummy to clench with a surge of adrenaline. She felt charged and breathless all at the same time. Everything seemed too much…something. Her head ached, her breasts ached, and she was slowly becoming aware of a new ache between her legs. She writhed against the onslaught of too many sensations. Trying to alleviate her discomfort, she twisted up against him pressing her breasts hard against his chest, whining as her nipples dragged across him under her shirt.

Forgetting her arms, he grasped the flesh of her backside in his palms, using it to press her hard against him. She arched her back, and the dull ache twisted into searing pleasure.

Her hips were adjusted so that their bodies were brought further into intimate contact. She wrapped her legs around his hips reflexively and he thrust against her. With every surge she felt the hard press of him against _that_ place between her legs, so forceful it was almost painful. He was growling, frustrated against her mouth.

Her eyes shot open at the brush of fingers against the entrance to her body. Pulling in a deep breath, she struggled to remember when that had happened. One long finger slid experimentally through her folds until he found what he was looking for. Dropping his head to her neck, he scraped teeth against her pulse point. A bolt of lightning shot from her throat to where his finger was pushing past the resistance of slick muscle, and she felt the air in her lungs stolen, even as she heard her own strangled cry.

A loud pounding at the door shattered the world and broke them apart with a lurch.

Orihime would have sworn that he _snarled_ at it like an animal. It sounded disturbingly real even coming from a human throat. The voice on the other side tossed her the rest of the way out of her sexually flustered haze. She squirmed as he withdrew his finger, feeling heat creep up her face.

"Inoue… It's Yuri! Please, open up!"

Orihime flung herself into a sitting position at the sound of panic coming from the other side. The hollow had to jerk his head back in order to avoid a painful collision. She tried to scramble out from under him, but he wasn't moving.

"How did she know where you lived?"

Pausing in her struggle, she looked up to see him glaring at the door. "I… don't know. Does it matter? She needs _help_."

She tried to push against his chest, only to meet empty air. He made it to the door in two steps and jerked it open, moving to the side so that he wasn't immediately visible. Yuri rushed in and grabbed Orihime's hands, trying to drag her out the door, without preamble.

"Yuri, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" She tried scouring her for wounds as she was pulled toward the door, but the smaller girl was _strong_.

"They know where you are…" She shoved Orihime harder, from behind this time. Then she saw the hollow and froze.

He stepped out of the shadows with a menacing, narrow eyed gaze. "And who would _they_ be?"

* * *

**A/N**

**Did you like that? We got a little naughtiness in there. Well, if you did enjoy it, please let me know in the form of a review! **

**If you have never reviewed and are nervous or just need a good example, please feel free to check out a review by Luvtousall or Halfdemonfan. They are just some of the many people that make my world go 'round.**

**Child of the Ashes**


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

* * *

**Authorial Notice: Oh god. Buckle your seat belts kids you are not ready for this. Hell, I wrote it and I wasn't ready.**

**No. Seriously, if you haven't been following this story very closely, you might want to take a minute and go back through it. Just a warning. This chapter is one hell of a ride. However, if you're like me, you already skipped this message and are currently reading the chapter anyway. Thus, my spiffy little cautionary becomes irrelevant. Hmm.**

**Uh, yeah.**

**So, my first real fight scene and I'm pretty nervous about it. I don't know…I feel like I tried to shape a big pile of crap into a lovely, floral center piece. _And_, I'm starting to suspect that the guests might be catching on.**

**Other things I'm feeling nervous about include a new little HichiHime story I put out called Rorschach. It's a _completely_ different writing style for me, a bit bittersweet, I think. So if you get the chance and you ship that way, feel free to let me know what you think!**

**And without further ado...**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

"Who are_ they?"_ Yuri retorted. "Who the hell are _you_?"

Orihime was sure that her bones would snap under the sudden clenching of her body's muscles. She could only turn her head slightly to stare aghast at the girl beside her, wondering what in the world would possess her to say something so reckless. Then it occurred to her, that Yuri didn't even know what a hollow was…so explaining why saying something like _that_ was so incredibly, horribly _dumb_ would probably have little effect.

She blinked when the girl crossed her arms and stared right back at the hollow; seemingly oblivious to the expression of death incarnate on his face. _Or maybe slow death incarnate_.

He narrowed his eyes.

Orihime looked back and forth between them.

Yuri hadn't even glanced at her frantic _back away slowly _gestures. And she was pretty sure that at any moment the hollow was going to move faster than the eye could follow, then Yuri's decapitated head would be rolling across the floor…

She shook her head forcefully, trying to wipe her mind as if it were nothing more constant than an etch-a-sketch and thought hard. There had to be a way to stop this.

Floating around somewhere in her consciousness was the brief annoyance that the younger girl seemed to suddenly _remember_ that they had been attacked. After weeks of denial, that had left Orihime questioning her own sanity, not to mention the sheer amount of _condescension_ the girl had thrown her way- all of which Orihime had born without complaint- and all of the sudden, Yuri seemed to remember it all perfectly.

Not that it mattered _now_, but still, it was irritating.

Orihime sighed and before she could rethink the action, she stepped between them, giving the hollow her most heartfelt pleading look.

She might as well have tried to sweet talk her sofa or given puppy eyes to the nearest ceiling fan. But he did arch an eyebrow at her, which she was deciding to take as a good sign. Raising her hands in stalling motions, she gave a tentative smile, considered her options.

_Running_…That had rarely steered her wrong in the past. Although, he would undoubtedly catch her and then she would have to deal with the consequences. She frowned, resisting the urge to rub the back of her sore head. _Okay, no running_.

_What else? _

She could always hope that he miraculously turned back into Kurosaki-kun, but that didn't seem viable, either. For just a moment she let her mind run over Ichigo. She wondered where he was, where he went when the hollow was in control.

Raising her head, she looked the hollow in the eye, something she usually tried desperately to avoid. And in that second, while she let her thoughts wander, she was hit with the illogical fear that she might never see him again.

Her stomach twisted. Orihime was just going to have to keep him happy until she found a way to get Kurosaki-kun back. And right now, keeping him happy meant finding an answer to his question.

"Don't be silly, Yuri-chan. This is Kurosaki-kun, from school…" She lied, working up a smile and using it full force, "Why don't you tell us about that man from the other night?"

The blond girl gave her a disparaging glance before turning back to glare at the hollow from around her legs. "Why should I?"

For a second, Orihime thought Yuri would stick her tongue out. And Orihime was pretty sure that if she _did_, she would be picking little bits of the girl out of her hair. She turned to give the hollow a bright smile, while subtly trying to stomp on her toes. "_Because_, Yuri-chan, he asked you very _nicely_."

Feeling quite pleased with her diplomatic answer, she chocked on air at the next words.

"I've been asked nicer…"

Orihime clamped her mouth down on a squeak when the hollow's stance shifted. Spinning around, she dropped to her knees and shook her tutor. "_But we're in a hurry, right?_"

Yuri blinked and her eyes seemed to sharpen. Nodding, she pointed at the door. "Yeah, but we should go. I can tell you on the way."

Orihime frowned. "We?"

She looked over her shoulder at Ichigo's hollow, only to see him already heading out the door. Staring at the spot he where he had been standing, she quickly went over the last few minutes in her head, frowning when the situation _still_ made no sense. She heard the metal clank of footfalls on the stairs, and her brain kicked back into gear.

"Eh? H-hey!" She exchanged a brief glance with Yuri, before heading after him. "Where are you going?"

He muttered something that sounded surprisingly like 'kiss my ass' but was undoubtedly 'stained glass' or 'half-mast' or…oh.

"Battle pass?" She gasped as realization hit her. That's right. He couldn't get out of his body. "You didn't bring it?"

It seemed odd that he would make such an oversight. Ichigo never went anywhere without it; just another thing that only served to illustrate the difference between them. Orihime wondered for the first time exactly _how_ his hollow had managed to take control. What if he had hurt Kurosaki-kun?

Orihime stopped walking.

Why hadn't she thought of that before?

This was bad. At some point, without her being aware of doing so, without being any less frightened of him, and without being any less mindful of what he was capable of, she had stopped thinking of him as the enemy.

At some point, Orihime had stopped thinking of him as the thing that was hurting the one she loved and had started to think of him as a person. And that was _bad_, because he wasn't. He was a part of Kurosaki-kun. And now that he had his body, he would use it to fight in a battle Kurosaki-kun had never agreed to. Her head spun as she tried to wrap it around such a difficult thought.

But he wasn't stopping.

She took off after him again. "But…why? I didn't ask for your help…"

Behind her, Yuri picked up a string of curses at that, but before she could be shocked at her use of profanity, the hollow stopped. She had been trying to catch up to his long strides and was half jogging when she slammed into his back.

He frowned down at her and it took a moment for Orihime to realize that she had offended him.

Then cool indifference swept up to cover the momentary lapse. Turning, he began walking again. "Who said I was doing anything for you? I'm just hoping for a good _fight_."

"Fight?" Yuri cut in. "There is no fighting them…there's only running. Which is what we should be doing, you know…right now."

Orihime glanced back. "What do you mean?"

"I-" Yuri huffed and glared at the ground, as if it had offended her just by being there. Knowing the girl's attitude, it was probably true. "Look. I can distract them. You should just get someplace to hide."

"Yuri-chan." Orihime stopped and turned. "Who are they? If you're in some kind of trouble, I can help. You can trust me." She crouched down, placing a hand on her shoulder and froze when Yuri finally looked at her. _Really_ looked at her.

She was reminded of all the times she had looked into Ichigo's eyes, only to see something else where a boy should have been. That was what she saw. Something else. And it was hiding behind reddish-brown eyes.

Orihime jerked her hand back.

"That's right. The less you know the better…This never concerned you and it's my fault that you're here now. So, I'm sorry." Orihime watched as the girl tore herself back. She didn't sound very sorry. "Just run. I'll lead them away."

"You're not going _anywhere_ alone, you're just a…"Orihime trailed off. What had she been about to say? Child? Somehow it seemed wrong.

Yuri flinched and took another step back, just out of the reach of Orihime's grasping fingers. "Please…just…"

Tears welled up in her eyes and Orihime cringed. She always hated when other people cried. But before her own eyes could start to water, the girl turned and ran.

Orihime had been right. Yuri was fast. She was flying through the street and out of sight before Orihime had time to process what was happening. She blinked and dropped the hand that was still hanging where the girl's shoulder had been a few seconds ago.

Standing, Orihime turned to see the hollow leaned up against a building, just outside of the circle of light cast by a streetlamp. She closed her eyes and ran a hand over her forehead. Too many problems were clamoring for her attention. What was going on? Why had the world suddenly decided to fall apart from every angle? And what could she do about any of it?

He watched as Orihime bit her lip and wrinkled her nose in concentration. Abruptly, he pushed off the wall.

It had occurred to him as he had stood in her apartment that he had left himself disturbingly vulnerable. A corporeal body certainly seemed to have its drawbacks and he wondered how his other self could stand it.

He moved quickly through the streets, not bothering to make sure she was following him. He already knew she would. In some ways she was every bit the slave to her nature that he was to his. She drew up beside him as they approached the clinic, glancing nervously between him and the house.

"What are you going to do?" She whispered.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Obviously, I'm going to go in there and kill them all."

She squeaked and he frowned when she tugged at his arm. "Y-you can't do that!"

Giving a sigh that he hoped conveyed his great patience with her, he glanced back. "That was sarcasm. Stay here." He pushed her into the bushes and then he was gone.

She blinked wondering how he _did_ that. One second he was _there_ and then he wasn't. _What a handy trick..._

Orihime jumped as he came back around the corner a minute later, clad once again in shihakushou and cutting a dark figure even against the black shadows of the house. The hilt of Zangetsu poked over his right shoulder and until she saw it, Orihime didn't realize how tense she had been. But now something in her uncoiled slightly and she let out a breath. Then she blinked, because either she was imagining things or his hair seemed to be paler than normal. But maybe it was just bad light.

He stopped and looked down at her, tilting his head to the side in a way she had begun to realize meant he was concentrating. As Orihime waited for him to elaborate his thoughts, she saw that his eyes had changed also. From there, it seemed only natural to let her eyes drop down to his mouth and it's deceptively angelic set. She licked her own lips.

Orihime blinked and ripped her gaze away. _What was she doing?_ This was not the time to be fantasizing. _What was the matter with her? Did a few kisses really have the power to turn her into some sort of depraved person? _

Although, there had been more than kissing…

She cut the thought off firmly and looked up to see him smiling down at her as if he were perfectly aware of her inner struggle. She pursed her lips, looking away.

God, he could be so…_unfair_.

Orihime sighed, coming back to the problem at hand. "What now? How do we know where to find Yuri?"

He shrugged, stepping out from the side of the house and adopting a bored look that somehow just made him look more menacing. "We don't. Trail and error."

Following behind him once again, she frowned at his back. "But then… where are you going?"

His shoulders lifted and fell again, and Orihime stumbled down the curb.

"You're kidding, right?" The silence that followed did nothing to reassure her. "Well, why this way?"

Orihime threw her arms up when he shrugged again, before falling into step beside him.

An hour and thirty or so blocks later, she was starting to have second thoughts about his directional logic. She peeked over at him for about the hundredth time in the last five minutes. And just like every other time, he seemed to sense her gaze.

"What?" He bit out with a lot more force than necessary.

Whipping her head straight, she looked back to the sidewalk. "Umm…nothing, it's nothing."

They walked in silence for another few minutes, before she couldn't stand it anymore.

"It's just that…Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe someone saw her and—"

He turned to stare down at her.

"We could always ask for…umm, you know what?" She waved her hands. "Nevermind."

When he continued to look at her, she took the initiative and moved on, too flustered by his glowering to stand under it. He followed behind her at a slower pace, still giving her back the benefit of his narrow eyed scrutiny.

That was when she noticed it, the iron bars of a gated community. This is where Yuri had taken her that night they had been attacked by the handsome man. She turned to tell him as much, but he was looking off to the side. In the distance, she felt a faint trace of abnormal spiritual pressure. It was weak, but still, it had a funny feeling about it.

"Do you feel that?" She glanced over just in time to see him scaling the fence. "W-wait! You can't leave me here, I want—"

"Actually, I can, and that's exactly what I'm doing." Cutting her off, he spoke over his shoulder, without stopping, leaving her standing on the other side, sputtering in exasperation. She would probably follow him anyway, but he intended to take care of any of the major players before that happened.

Taking off into the trees, he picked up speed, feeling a little stab of annoyance that she wouldn't be there to see it. He had a suspicion that his princess liked to watch. Too bad he couldn't show her exactly why he was so much better than useless Ichigo.

The spiritual pressure that had been indistinct on the other side of the fence was now so thick in the air it felt like it was clinging to him. Snarling in disgust, he gathered his own power, letting his mask form over his face. It came rushing forward, out and over him, washing the lesser, nauseating pressure away. He felt strong again. _Purified_. Doubtless that doing so had caught the attention of everything within range, but it didn't matter. They were close now anyway and the almost violent elation of imminent battle was burning rational thought away, filling him up with the thrill of the chase.

Breaking free of the foliage, he saw his enemies. Or more accurately, he spotted things that looked vaguely like people that he was going to kill. If they weren't enemies, they sure as hell were _going_ to be.

In the split second it took for him to clear the branches, he took them in. Sensing each and every life force burning against its surroundings, the way only a hollow could appreciate. And they all looked so surprised that he wanted to laugh, could feel it working its way up his chest to join with the mask's toothy grin.

They weren't hollows. That much was obvious. Some of them didn't even resemble humans. They all had different forms and even as he wondered what the fuck they were, he was writing them off. They were all dead anyway. Not people or monsters, just living, breathing corpses, he just hadn't cut them up yet.

The girl was there, bound and gagged in sutras and chains. His eyes didn't stop on her. If she lived, he would present her to his princess. If not, he would take back her head as proof that she was dead. Other than that, she meant nothing. But standing beside her, as their faction fell apart and stumbled over themselves, one man alone stood composed. Someone he recognized. A man with silver hair and billowing sleeves, slit crimson eyes and a smile that split his face.

Down deep in his mind, he felt something jerk and stir, but he pushed it back; unwilling to have his fun interrupted. The king had fought the smiling man once before, he remembered. Excitement, pure and unbridled pierced through his gut, spurring him faster. That one was strong. He knew it like he knew his own power.

They were close, now. From his back, he could hear Zangetsu whispering, begging to be drawn, compelling him to use his power, but he ignored it.

He landed in a flourish, coiling his legs and already preparing to spring again, feeling his own muscles sliding against each other in one smooth motion.

On the updraft, he caught the one closest in the stomach; hitting with enough force that he felt his knuckles punch through, crunching against vertebrae on the other side. Blood spewed out of its mouth, flecking his mask as he smiled into dying eyes. The body jerked with spasms as he withdrew his arm, tossing it away like a broken toy. Pleased, he shot on to the next, a female with a sword that was too big for her. He pivoted under the blade as she swung, reaching up to grab a fist full of hair before snapping her head back, breaking the neck. And the sound was so _satisfying_; he could taste it in his mouth.

He threw back his head and laughed. It was all so _easy_.

The next opponent stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet. If it was in shock or fear, it didn't matter. He simply stepped aside, letting it fall face first to the dirt before crushing the skull under one heel, feeling hard resistance effortlessly give way with a wet crunch.

They came at him in a frenzy, lunging from all sides. But he was faster.

Soaring straight up, he arced through the air and twisted over himself, till just for a moment, gravity held him suspended upside-down. He found the blood colored eyes of the one he wanted. Reaching back, he pulled Zangetsu free, groaning in pleasure against the surge of power that flared down his arm.

Then he whipped forward, metal striking metal as his sword was blocked by a small wakizashi. Twisting away, he spun his own blade in a tight arch, whirling it up to make a diagonal slash, flinging his silver haired opponent away before drawing it back to slice a thin trail from shoulder to hip. For just a second he saw shock fleet over the man's face, before he flashed out of existence and back again, several yards away.

They smiled at each other.

"Well, if it isn't Ichigo-kun…Certainly're much faster than before, I'll give you that. But will it be fast enough?" He whisked his sword down before flicking it into the air and catching it on one finger, letting it spin. "But silly me…talking to a _beast_ as if you could understand." He let the sword fall from his fingertip to land in his palm. "Shoot to kill, Shinsō."

The flash was blinding against the night.

* * *

Orihime wiggled her hips again, hopeful that this time- _please, oh god_- this time, they would slide free.

They didn't.

Sighing, she slumped into the dirt. What had possessed her to try and crawl through the bars?

She _had_ tried climbing the fence, but there wasn't any place to put her feet. And there was obviously no way she could jump it like the hollow. She propped her head up on one arm. Maybe Ichigo could teach her how to walk on air. _Although_, she'd have to be a spirit being like him first, which meant she'd probably have to _die_.

Orihime squirmed again, gasping clumps of grass for leverage.

The air on this side of the fence was thick and heavy, and Orihime was panting just to breathe. There had to be something keeping it in, but she didn't see anything. It must have been why they hadn't felt so much oppressive energy from the other side.

She felt one hip sliding forward just a hair's width in front of the other. _If only I had brought some butter. _Then behind her, something shifted and she came free with a small shredding sound, launching her through and onto the other side.

She groaned and looked down to see a large slash ripped into her shorts, exposing almost her entire hip. Climbing to her feet she inspected her side, glad that her skin at least was unmarred. Just one more _Thing_ in a long list of _Things_ she didn't need right now.

Spiritual pressure hit her, jerking Orihime back into the present and out of her harassed brooding. It was Ichigo's, or _his hollow's,_ dark energy. She dropped the piece of shorts she had been holding up in an ineffective attempt to preserve her modesty. Zeroing in on his direction, she took off, darting around a guard house and into the most magnificently manicured wood she had ever seen.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a dull echo of feet slapping against the ground below her. The moon hung full in the sky, lighting her path as she dodged roots and trees. As she went further, undergrowth began to appear and even vines hanging down out of the tree tops. Thorn bushes and small shrubbery popped up from nowhere, snagging what was left of her clothes and Orihime felt herself become disoriented. Then, with a few more running steps she breached the leafy cocoon that had slowly been encasing her and the world righted itself again.

The air hung like thick black cotton, but if she listened carefully she could just make out the sounds of clashing steel. Ahead she could see light leaking in through branches, and she slowed not wanting to accidently alert anyone to her presence.

Orihime pressed herself into a tree at the edge of the light and peered out. What she had expected to see was block after block of cookie cutter shaped houses, neatly stacked and arranged in pleasing shapes and rows. But instead she saw an encampment, a small army.

Tents and fires cluttered the wooded glade, and her first thought was to wonder why she had never known that Karakura had a camp ground. In fact, she was pretty sure that it didn't. Orihime wrinkled her forehead. _Where was she?_

And then the creatures came. Materializing into her field of vision like horrific images out of a dream. They were the things of nightmares. The reason children were afraid of the dark. They were all of the things that people _knew_ were out there somewhere, hiding in the shadows, but were easily shrugged off during the light of day. Now they were revealed in all of their ghastly clarity and every instinct in Orihime's brain was telling her to run.

Fear reached up from low in her gut and grasped her heart with cold fingers. And she knew without having to be told.

_Demons_. They were _demons_.

Orihime heard her own breath catching against the walls of her throat as she closed her eyes. Her heart palpitated, and then the world she knew, the world she had grown up in, twisted into something unrecognizable. It broke and shattered behind her eyes, before spiraling back and reordering itself in the space of an instant. When she opened her eyes again, she was looking at a different earth.

Yokai were real.

Why something like that still had the power to surprise her after _everything_, she didn't know.

At a crack like lightening, Orihime looked up and saw Ichigo's hollow for the first time as he plummeted to the ground. Trails of blood cascaded like shimmering red diamonds, flowing behind him. He hit with a sickening lurch and crunch of broken bone, and she gasped, digging her nails into tree bark. But he was already getting up again, then he flashing off as if fatal injuries were a particularly rude and disgusting habit that only other people had.

She watched him spring from the ground and behind him, her eyes fell on a large metal dais. It was tagged with sutra papers in strange kanji and wrapped with heavy chains, but what caught her attention was the blond patch of hair adorned with two short stubby pig tails.

Her gut clenched at the sight of heavy bonds, so thick they were easily the size of her wrist and they almost swallowed the little girl from sight. Orihime tightened her jaw, swallowing back the righteous anger that threatened to overwhelm her at the sight of a child treated so brutally. Pushing the overhead battle to the back of her mind, she concentrated on how to get to Yuri. There were at least five of the demon things that she could see and probably more that she couldn't.

Creeping around to the side, Orihime got as close as she could to the metal platform without actually leaving her hiding place. And directly below the fighting, the pressure was so heavy that breathing was getting increasingly problematic. Even some of the yokai she saw looked like they were struggling. But that was good, she decided. Maybe with any luck, they wouldn't notice her sneaking by.

There was only one of the demon creatures between her and Yuri. Orihime studied the path between them, determined not to trip or be surprised by any obstacle. She crouched and rested her weight on her back leg preparing to sprint, when she was grabbed from behind. Hauled up by the hair, Orihime cried out at the sudden pain lancing through her skull, before being roughly spun around and slammed into the tree at her back.

Startled eyes locked onto the smiling face of the handsome man, and she was shocked motionless by the suddenness of his arrival. But before she could remember to look away, he caught her gaze with his own and all resistance fell away. She relaxed against the tree, content to just see his face and watch his lips move as he spoke.

"Look what I found. The little bitch that thinks she's too good to be touched." His fist twisted into her hair and Orihime could hear it tearing free in places. "Sorry to tell you, but I think that boy of yours will be too busy to come help you this time…" He lifted her hand to his mouth and her pulse fluttered. "By the way, we were never properly introduced. My name is Kumiho Shan-Jing and I'm going to kill you."

His lips skimmed back from teeth as he pulled her hand past his face and exposed the fleshy part of her arm. She watched with detached curiosity as hair sprouted on his face and snout, and fangs curled over lips. Then he bit down.

Fire lit across her vision, her body screaming under the searing and tearing of gnashing teeth penetrating muscle. As blood flowed down his chin and covered his snout, she realized that her mind had been released, but her body was still held captive, paralyzed. He met her eyes as her body jerked and seized, and she _knew_ he was doing it on purpose. He wanted to see her in pain. He wanted her alert enough to suffer.

Then it made sense.

_He's…going to eat me alive. _

Shan-Jing's jaw closed again, and she could feel the scrape of his incisors pulling cartilage and hitting bone. And still, her body was held under his thrall. She wanted to shriek in pain, wanted to cry out and scream and shout until someone helped her, but nothing was working. Orihime could only watch as he pulled flesh back in chunks and gobs and chewed. Her stomach gave a violent lurk.

_Help! Help me…someone please…stop, please, no more…_

Light flashed, pure and bright, and it flared into his side like an arrow, looping through him and out, then back again. He pulled back with a surprised shout, even as blood erupted from his side. He clawed at himself and Orihime realized he was trying to push his _insides_ back _in_.

"Woman! What are you doing? Fight or run!"

Her eyes focused on Tsubaki, floating in the air before her like a miniature human shield. She swallowed and her voice shook; it wasn't even a whisper, just air puffing past dry lips. "Did I call you?"

"No time! Run or fight!"

But it was too late. Orihime heard the hiss of a blade being drawn from its scabbard and it churned through the air, knocking the small fairy away before the hilt flashed up. It caught her under the chin, snapping her teeth shut and slicing them through part of her tongue. Her back hit the dirt of the clearing with a hollow thud, forcefully expelling air from her lungs. Chocking on the blood in her mouth, Orihime rolled to the side and coughed it up, trying to clear her airway.

Beside her a boot kicked dirt and she looked up to see Shan-Jing through swimming vision. She took in his red stained fur and gruesome features, clawing at the dirt under her, trying to scramble away. The tip of his blade flashed up, pointing straight at her throat and all she could do was watch it come at her, crawling in slow motion, even as it flew too quickly.

And she didn't want to die.

She didn't want to die, pathetic and crying, staining the dirt with spit and blood. She didn't want to die away from all the people she loved, Tatsuki, Kurosaki-kun, Uryu and Chad, Rangiku and Rukia. She wanted to see them again. She wanted to tell them how much they meant to her. She wanted to tell them that they were all she had, and that she was so _grateful_.

The tip of the sword darted in, straight toward her.

A pale hand shot into her peripheral vision, grasping the tip of the blade and wrenching it away.

Orihime blinked up through tears she didn't know she had been crying. The hollow stood over her, lip curled back in a not so silent snarl, flinging the sword away. She could see that it had cut through the flesh of his palm, but he didn't seem to feel it. Warm droplets hit her face. She didn't have the energy to wipe them away.

She wanted to cry out, but her mouth was too full of warm liquid. From behind him a voice called out, and the words floated to Orihime as though from a great distance, as though they had traveled from the past itself.

"You sure it's alright to fight someone else, when you can't even take me?"

Orihime's eye spun to the approaching figure and she saw someone that she knew she couldn't be seeing, because Ichimaru Gin was dead.

"What is this?" A new man stepped out from the trees, scanning the situation before coming to rest back on Gin. Long burgundy hair cascaded over one shoulder and he reached up flipping it back and out of the way.

Beside her Shan-Jing flinched visibly. "Tusan-sama…"

The man with burgundy hair glanced at Shan-Jing, his lip curled in disgust and he once again addressed Gin. "You know how I feel about interruptions. Finish with this."

"Always so bossy…" One belled sleeve raised and it took her a second to see the zanpaktou nestled inside.

It stabbed forward faster than she could follow, catching the hollow in the back and Orihime realized for the first time that he had barely been standing. She heard her own scream.

He stumbled forward before spinning around with a roar, unleashing a blast of pent energy from Zangetsu, but Ichimaru was already moving. His zanpaktou tilted and then shot forward. It caught Ichigo's body in the shoulder, just above the heart. Clenched muscles gave way without warning and his eyes rolled back, and Orihime watched as he barely caught himself on one knee, hissing angrily.

Her feet scrambled under her as she tried to close the gap between them, but she jerked to a stop.

Looking down, she saw a hilt sticking out of her abdomen at an odd angle. Staggering back, she raised up to take in the scene before her with vivid clarity. Ichimaru had frozen, mouth slightly agape. In front of her Shan-Jing stood posed, one arm still extended in front of him.

Behind him she met the eyes of the hollow. Orihime counted her heartbeats as she watched something ugly spark in his face. Then the world exploded into a hurricane of riatsu.

* * *

A/N

Ack. That was rough.

Alright, I'm launching a preemptive strike on the subject of Gin's eye color. Mostly, because I just know I'm gonna get nailed on it.

They change. Yes, you heard me right….or read, whatever. But in the anime his eyes are shown red, because they didn't know what color to make them. Later Kubo revealed them in the manga to be a piercing blue. They actually even had them amber at one point, I think. So, well, there you go.

I am making an intentional play on his eye color here. Just wanted to get that out there. Although, you guys are smart, so you probably already knew that! :)

And…First battle scene ever! What did you think?

I also should mention at this point, that if you try to navigate away from this page without first leaving a review, my attack sheep shall jump out of your computer and rip out your throat encourage you to do so. Then we at will be very sad. :(

Thanks so much!


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Warnings: This much angst just can't be healthy. So, now you've been warned.

**Authorial Notice:**

**Where to begin?**

**Oh wait, I know this one…I'm so, so sorry for how long it took me to get this done! I'm really trying my hardest. I know lots of you have been waiting and it **_**kills**_** me. **

**Questions:**

**Some of you have had some really awesome questions, and unfortunately, we're to the point where I can't answer most of them without giving the story away. However, this chapter should make quite a bit clear. I hope. **

**If not, I've failed utterly. But, if you're curious about anything, ask me! I promise to try and answer everything I can.**

**And oh, oh!**

**Total props go out to my two new betas, Dellanotte and Muise. These ladies kicked ass, took names and still had time to whip this chapter into the triumphant masterpiece of the English language you see before you. Yup, they are that good.**

Chapter Sixteen

All Orihime could see was the golden irises of the hollow behind his partially broken mask, before everything reformed. The mask shifted. It stretched and flowed, changing, and the horns she had seen in every dream since returning from Hueco Mundo extended out.

Orihime blanched. Her vision that had begun to fade started to twist instead. It took on the vivid abstract quality of a waking dream.

She knelt in grass, but beneath her hands and knees Orihime felt sand. The moon hung too big in the sky, reflecting off of the exposed skin of Ichigo's chest where flesh was receding back.

She was hallucinating. She _knew_ she was, but what part she was dreaming and what was real, she couldn't tell.

A deep and primal terror began in the back of her mind, one that had nothing to do with her injuries or the thought of dying. It began as a whimper, brushing against the edges of her thoughts, but it grew. As the horns finished protruding out in vicious points and the mask formed great red stripes down the center, the whispering turned to shrieking.

There was a gaping black hole in his center and only the coat kept her from seeing out the other side. Long wisps of hair floated about him, carried on invisible currents by the sheer force of the power coming out of him.

_No…please. Please, let this be a nightmare. I'm going to wake up, just like always…I don't want to see this…_

Everyone was stumbling back, even the new one with purple hair that had looked so calm and authoritative, but Orihime was held fast in her fear. It clouded out rational thought. It kept her from feeling the pain in her belly. Her own helplessness produced a void that was threatening to swallow her alive.

She was trembling violently, staring at him, but all she saw was the past— a lock of hair falling over the patient face of Aizen, and Ishida's shocked face, crumpling as he was impaled on Tensa Zangetsu. She saw Ulquiorra's bright green eyes, emotionless, yet pleading behind the fingers of an outstretched hand. And the _hole_, the huge gaping hole that the espada had punched straight through Ichigo's chest. It was mirrored in front of her now.

She closed her eyes so hard that it should have hurt, but she felt nothing. The images kept playing, even as they swirled into new pictures. Pictures of children lying lifeless on the ground and blood, so much blood, then chains and screaming…

She was screaming.

She was tearing the blade from her stomach and tossing it away. She was launching forward to grab him around the waist, begging.

He was immobile, not moving away or striking out and she didn't know if he could hear her at all. Words tumbled out of her mouth and she didn't know what they were or what she was saying, but she begged anyway. Her face brushed the edge of the hole and she wanted to vomit.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his sword fall from limp fingertips.

The empty hand came up, moving past her shoulder, effortlessly grazing three deep furrows on its way, and stopped at her face. She trembled as he reached out and caught a tear on the tip of a single claw.

Then the pressure eased and he collapsed to the ground, dragging her with him. She fell on top of his chest as people around her began yelling and running. Beneath them the ground shook.

The last thing Orihime remembered as the darkness closed over her was the hazy outline of a wooden sandal squelching blood soaked earth and the face of a bearded man that somehow looked familiar, but she must have been mistaken, because clasped around one arm was the white banner of a captain's haori.

* * *

The hollow felt like the jaws of a monster had closed around him, snapping shut with alarming finality. He was whipped down and back with so much _force _that for a second, he couldn't grasp what was happening. Then gravity caught and he was skimming across a familiar, gravel strewn side of a building. He clenched his hands into the rubble, forcibly drawing himself to a stop.

Narrowing his eyes against the harsh light, he met the dark and furious gaze of his counterpart, stalking toward him across the sideways landscape, sleek black sword in hand and seething with indignation. Energy rolled off of him in white hot waves, scorching the air.

It would seem that his liege was pissed.

Hollow fingers twitched at his side, where his own inverted sword should have been, but there was nothing. Shoving himself to his feet, he watched Ichigo.

"Finally wake up? Took long enough..."

He taunted, knowing it was over, but still unwilling to let go. After all, he could be just as insolent as Ichigo and just as proud. Then brown eyes flashed and without warning, something inside him ruptured. He clenched his teeth, snarling in wordless hatred.

Ichigo didn't miss a step.

"What are you going to do?" He hissed. "Lock me back up? Chain me down? But I'll still be here. I will _never_ fucking let you go." He stumbled back a step as the tearing deepened, searing his gut and seeping his power away.

"It's _her_ isn't it? Are you jealous? I'm conquering what you didn't have the balls to take and it pisses you off…But she _wants_ it, King. She wants _me_…" Another step back. "You heard it. She was fucking begging us to take her and she never even _knew_ it."

His human side advanced, coming closer and the hollow could see the white of knuckles flexing on Zangetsu. An odd mix of approval and dread worked its way around his chest, and he shoved it back, not wanting his host to feel it. He covered his discomposure with insolence, spitting defiance into the face of his defeat.

"You won't be able to keep this up forever. You'll forget, you'll get weak, or you'll just fucking _slip up_…and I'll have you..._I will end you_." He stepped back into a ledge, running out of room. "…Just fucking _say_ something!"

Ichigo took the last step and shoved Zangetsu into the hollow's chest, all the way up to the guard. The sword grew and twisted, forming chains, heavy and draping with barbs that drew no blood. The hollow staggered and fell under their weight, shrieking in fury.

Ichigo stepped back, watching with hooded eyes. Then something wavered in them and he looked away.

"I don't want her to cry. Not for me."

He could hear the hollow's defeat in the sound of the chains as they stilled and grew silent. If it had responded, the words were lost to the pounding of Ichigo's heart.

He pulled back mentally, drifting up through layers of foggy consciousness. There was the rustle of fabric, soft sniffling and fingers ghosting over his forehead.

Memories of all the times his mother sat beside him while he was sick played through his mind and the pang of longing sliced against his insides more effectively than a razorblade. But when he blinked open heavy lids, it was Orihime and not his mother who sat beside him.

For a moment, everything stood frozen.

Inoue's silvery gray eyes widened in shock, tears clinging to her lashes, hovering in the space between lingering and falling. The play of emotion over her face wove a spell. It was rawer and more open than he could remember seeing. There was confusion and fear, regret and shame, but beneath all of it was something bright, something that seemed to exist in spite of all the other emotions, everything else simply drifted on the edges. He didn't know what it meant, but marveled at how good of an actress she had to be in order to keep it hidden all this time.

Or maybe he hadn't wanted to see it.

The thought was ugly and he would have liked to shake it off, but he couldn't look away. He was trapped in her eyes and it _meant_ something to hold someone else's gaze for so long. He willed himself to stare anywhere else. Seconds ticked by and he didn't. Something needed to be said…he just had no idea what.

She swallowed and dropped her eyes, and he was released.

Ichigo blinked, letting go of the breath he had been holding. It was eerie that she could trap him so effectively and not even seem to be aware of it.

Shifting, he sat up and tried to turn his mind to other things, running his hands over his chest. There wasn't even a scratch. Looking back, he saw her watching the floor. Other than her clothing, she looked none the worse for wear. Several red stains, hastily scrubbed from her front told a different story. His memories were fuzzy. He could remember the gist of things, a big fight and lots of gore, but not much else.

"What happened?"

The muscles in her throat chorded then relaxed as she turned her head further away. "I'm supposed to tell them…when you wake up."

He frowned at her evasive response.

Had he hurt her? His hands felt clammy at the thought, but he couldn't remember anything like that. "What's wrong?"

She pulled her feet under her, getting up to leave and he had no conscious thought of following her until he was standing, but something was wrong and _dammit_, he needed to know. In one swift movement, he was spinning her back around, intent on an answer. "…_Orihime?"_

She drew in a quick breath. "W-what did you say?"

Stiffening, he paused. What _had_ he said?

It hadn't been a conscious effort. He hadn't thought about it. The word had just slipped off his tongue with an ease that was as disturbing as it was satisfying. Satisfying, because he recognized now, that he had wanted to and disturbing, because he was surprised at how much he had wanted to. But maybe he was over stepping his bounds. It wasn't like he had asked permission, after all.

He released her arm to run a hand down the back of his head. "I'm sorry, I—"

"No" She stopped him. "No…it's okay. I was just surprised."

She was watching him as if he had become an unpredictable creature. Guilt hit him in the pit of the stomach as his brain connected the irony.

He _was_ an unpredictable creature. And he owed her another apology.

Damn.

Orihime beat him to it.

"I…I'm a really terrible person." She glanced up to gage his reaction before continuing. "I messed everything up and…" She bit her lip.

Ichigo watched her fidget, pulling the hem on her tattered top that was already torn almost beyond recognition. Reaching a hand out to halt her nervous movements, he thought better about it before letting his arm drop back to his side.

He cleared his throat. "Maybe we should compare notes, because that's not exactly how I remember it."

Her eyes went big and she fixed them on the floor. When she spoke her voice was a whisper and a faint blush stained her checks. "How do you remember it?"

Frowning, he thought back, drudging his brain for useful information. "Well, I kind of remember walking down the street…then your place…and then…and then…"

_Oh_.

Looking down at Orihime, he saw she had both hands over her head, hiding her eyes. What he could see of her face was beet red. Carefully, he closed his mouth.

_Oh._

She sunk down in mortification, arms still shielding her face.

He felt the heat rising from his toes, working its slow way up his body to his face. Even his ears burned. His mind was running so many circles, he wondered pensively if it might break down. A constant rerun of Orihime writhing and muttering incoherently beneath him as he ground into her looped his brain, his hollow's words echoing against the background. _She was fucking begging us to take her…_

Beside him on the floor, Orihime had taken up a mantra of apologies.

He ran a hand down his face, because _god_, he was _never_ going to have a good night's sleep _ever again_.

"I'm dying..." Orihime's voice drifted through the heated fog that was left of his brain.

Ichigo looked down to see her lying flat on her back, one hand still pressed over her eyes, one over her heart. A whole new wave of images pooled through him. He slapped a hand over his own eyes, just to see if it helped. It didn't. Damn it. Didn't she know how provocative that made her look?

Twitching, he gritted his teeth together, starting to feel frustrated for a reason that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

"You're not going to die, Inoue." His voice came out surprisingly level, not at all panicked. Yes, she was Inoue. That was safe. It was very _not comfortable_. Certainly not the kind of name a guy would call a girl he had done…_things_ with.

He sighed at his own lame reasoning and let his hand drop. This wasn't the way he wanted to do this. They weren't kids, they were almost adults and they could handle this.

"No, I'm _dying_….I know I am." Orihime flopped over.

"You're not dying." He reiterated.

Sitting up, she peered at him between her fingers. "Do you hate me?"

He blinked. "Hate you? As if that was even an option."

Frowning at nothing in particular, he scuffed his toe on the floor, wishing he had pockets to shove his hands into.

Orihime chewed her lip.

"Look" He added, little slices of unease returning. "It's alright. If you're worried about your reputation, it's not like I would say anything..." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling stung for no reason he could think of.

A few weeks ago, that was _all_ he wanted, to protect her reputation and to protect _her_. Even from himself if necessary.

Now, she was sitting in front of him in a shirt so shredded the neck had fallen over one delicate shoulder and all he wanted to do was reach out and slide it down further. All he could think of was seeing if memory had perfectly served to capture the smoothness of her skin or the firm swell of breast. But more than that, he wanted to replace his hollow's memories with his own. He wanted his _own_ claim.

The thought should have startled him. Instead, he concluded that it must have been there for some time now.

Ichigo looked down at Orihime where she silently pined in embarrassment and felt a crack beginning to form in the walls he had worked so relentlessly to erect. But instead of trying to patch it, he found that he wanted to follow its path. He wanted to see what would happen if it split them in two and it all crumbled away, leaving him exposed to her.

But such a drastic change was as frightening as it was fascinating.

How long had he been balancing on a knife's edge? An edge that he stubbornly refused to acknowledge, in the empty hope that if he ignored the fall, he would never hit the ground. Now it was rushing up to meet him anyway and he didn't know how to escape it. He didn't know if he was ready for it.

She wasn't his. He wasn't _supposed_ to want her, didn't even _want_ to want her, because that would be the final step.

They were already tied together in the strange, enigmatic way that secrets and lies bound two people. If he crossed that final border, it would be over. To close that last tiny distance would be his downfall.

Giving in would be wrong and it wouldn't be fair to _her_.

She was just too fundamentally _good_ and sooner or later she was going to figure out the difference between them. She was almost incandescently pure. Once they got close enough for her to see how truly fucked up he really was, deep down on the inside, she would run.

And how would he keep her then? It would be too late.

They would already be so intertwined with each other that to escape undamaged would be impossible. By then, he would have grown into her and she would have grown into him. He would take her so far into himself that there could be no easy parting. And when it was over, they would mourn it so bitterly that there wouldn't be anything left of their friendship to return to.

It scared him.

How many people had he lost? Was he even willing to contemplate the possibility of her being one of them? Could he take that risk, when he knew he wouldn't survive the outcome?

He wasn't sure.

But, still, even knowing _that,_ even knowing _all of it…_Still, he wantedanyway.

It was wrong. It was so _very_ wrong, but he did. He wanted her. He wanted her for himself, in a way that had nothing to do with straightforward friendship.

The thought cleared all others out of his mind.

"…Orihime."

He pressed his lips back together.

What was he going to say? She was looking at him and he had no idea how to tell her what he was thinking. At least, not in any words that wouldn't send her running from the room.

Dropping his eyes from hers, Ichigo frowned, distracted when they landed on her shoulder. Just barely peeking over the top was some sort of nasty looking scar he hadn't noticed before.

_That's weird._

Dropping down, he reached out to turn her so that he could get a look at it, but stopped when she flinched and hastily jerked her tank top back up to cover it. Although the unexpected movement bewildered him, he didn't drop his hand, instead he searched her eyes.

"What was that?"

She gave him a bright smile. "Hmm…? Oh, that? It's just something that happened earlier…" She waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing to worry about."

He narrowed his eyes, taking in her suddenly light attitude. "Let me decide that."

Her smile faltered. "It's really not anything, Kurosaki—"

Finished with games, he reached out and spun her around till her back was facing him. She floundered trying to get her bearings while hovering over his legs. He slid the fabric back off her arm with a scowl.

High across the top of her shoulder blade, three long scars ran. They had been deeply cut and something about them, something he couldn't pinpoint, gnawed at him.

"They're not that bad." She had her head turned as far as his grip allowed and was watching his face.

He swallowed, not liking where things were headed. Reaching up he placed his first three fingers over the pearly lines. If he didn't stretch them out, they fit perfectly. He swallowed again. "…I did this?"

"Mmm…not on purpose…"

She offered a light smile, but her eyes were sad. He didn't want to look at them.

"And it didn't heal?"

"Urahara-san thinks it was because of the riatsu. I have trouble sometimes, with really strong riatsu." Her eyes dropped to her lap. "I don't want you to feel bad. It was my fault. I jumped into the middle of things when I shouldn't have and…and I almost got us killed…so please don't apologize."

She jumped and her eyes shot open as he pressed warm lips to the raised lines across her skin. When he drew back, she was shivering.

Then Rukia threw open the door. Loudly.

He turned to glare at her, temporarily forgetting everything but his annoyance. Didn't anyone know how _not_ to interrupt? He realized his father was standing behind her at the same time he remembered Orihime was sitting- now ramrod straight- in his lap.

The hand still holding down her shirt released automatically. Rukia's eyes widened, then narrowed and a small smile crept up to curve her lips.

"Why, Ichigo…" She batted her lashes in mock innocence. "I wasn't aware that you were such a ladies' man."

Orihime was on her feet in half a second, flat.

His dad looked between them and then frowned as if all the pieces didn't fit.

"Ichigo? A ladies' man…?" He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Not likely. I thought he was batting for the other team, honestly." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Ichigo sputtered, gasping for a breath with which to berate his father. But Orihime's eyes lit when she saw Isshin in the doorway and she bowed deeply.

"Oh, Shinigami-san…Thank you so much for your assistance! Without you we surely would have died!" She praised overenthusiastically before fixing him with a disarming smile.

Isshin looked Orihime over head to toe and Ichigo's hand just itched to punch him _right in the face_. He could practically hear the stream of lecherous thoughts zooming through his dad's senseless head. His eye twitched when his father flashed a dazzling smile before sliding into the room and laying a kiss on her knuckles.

"You must be the heap of girl we pulled off of that worthless son of mine. I didn't catch your name…"

"S-son?" She looked between Ichigo and Isshin with big eyes then blushed bright red.

Ichigo growled and moved to extract her from his father's clutches.

"It's Orihime and stop touching her!" He snapped, before tripping on Rukia's outstretched leg.

"Hang on there, Casanova. You can't wrestle right now, you need your rest. I'm sure _Orihime_ will be fine without her prince charming for five seconds." She smirked at him, looming over his prone form.

He glared at her. He should have known Rukia would catch on to something like that. Maybe if he was really quick, he could have her strangled and dead before anyone interfered. He eyed her neck.

Behind her, his father's melodramatic gasping could be heard.

"Inoue Orihime? Your reputation precedes you! Ichigo!" He turned to his son with a thundering scowl. "Why have you never introduced me to this luscious creature?"

"Eh…?" Orihime squeaked.

Ichigo scowled back, losing patience.

"_This_ is why…!" He pointed to his father's other hand that had been slowly creeping down her back. Isshin glanced down at it, surprised.

"…And I said to stop touching her!" He made a lunge, but his father deftly spun her around, pirouetting her just out of reach.

Orihime's entire face lit up. "Whee…!"

Ichigo was just wondering if he would be able to take the bastard out with a quick elbow, when Rukia kicked him in the back of the head.

"I told you, fool…you're not well…Stay down!" She punctuated the statement by launching a tiny fist into his ribs. "This is no time to be chasing skirts…"

Choking on air, he glared up at her. "…you bitch."

Orihime wobbled around in dizzy circles, panting and laughing. He had to admit, it had been awhile since he had seen her so carefree. Her entire face glowed with mirth as she regained her balance.

A throat cleared.

From the doorway, Tessai bowed slightly. "I believe they are ready for you."

* * *

It wasn't long before they were sitting uncomfortably around Urahara's worn and oversized dining table and Ichigo was reflecting that it seemed the speed it usually took for his day to go from not-that-bad to barely-tolerable had probably just obliterated some sort of record. He scowled venomously at the green and white striped hat bobbing at the head of the table and tried to coerce the vein pounding in his temple to lie flat.

This was all Rukia's fault. Of course.

In fact, it was so obvious that it was all her fault it was hardly worth thinking about. She was the one that had started this whole business of walking Inoue home in the first place. Now she wanted to act like the entire development was some sort of bombshell, _as if_ he couldn't see that she had been maneuvering and scheming the _entire_ time, like he couldn't trace the puppet strings back to her conniving little fingers.

And then his _father…_

He felt a twitch working its way up his shoulder. That bastard's constant teasing over the years had probably done some sort of irreparable damage.

And if that wasn't bad enough, he was possibly only one or two more clever comments away from strangling the pair of them, because for some unfathomable reason they had seen fit to appoint themselves as his own private peanut gallery.

He forcibly willed himself to keep his eyes forward and not let them stray to Orihime where she sat a few feet away. Every time he did it sent up a new series of whispered expository. And if age had any direct correlation to sarcastic wit, then between the two of them, he figured they probably had at least four hundred years of combined and extremely _annoying_ proficiency with it, and neither of them seemed anything less than thrilled to share it with him.

The fist by his side tightened.

He had been so close to figuring things out with Inoue. When they had been alone before, puzzle pieces had been connecting, nerve endings firing. It was like he had been on the verge of something unexpected and if he had just had a few more seconds he could have figured it out.

Everything had been so clear then. He had been _so_ sure that he had hit some sort of milestone. And for just a second, he had actually convinced himself that if he had feelings for Inoue, then maybe, _maybe_, she might actually return them.

He let his eyes fall to the surface of the table, feeling his forehead tighten and resisting the urge to rub it away.

He should be grateful they had come in when they had. It had probably stopped him from making an ass out of himself…or more of ass anyway. He had been reading into things. Worst of all, he had no idea what he had been about to do before they had come in. That was a problem. With Orihime it was so easy to just forget everything else. It was like she comprised her own world and if you got too close you were just pulled in.

He had almost crossed the line.

Not that he hadn't already crossed about fifty others…but there had been reasons for those times, excuses.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Orihime shifting nervously, fretting like a mother hen over the little blond girl at her side.

This whole thing had been unduly hard on her. The last thing she needed was him leching all over her when she was vulnerable. Just because he had developed some sort of feelings…or _something_, didn't mean they were welcome. Just because they had shared some of the most intensely passionate moments of his life, didn't mean she felt the same way. It didn't mean he had some sort of claim. And it certainly didn't mean that he could just start putting his hands all over her any time the desire to do so blindsided him out of thin air.

Ichigo stiffened when she leaned over further in an attempt to scour for cuts and bruises. He made sure not to let his eyes follow the trail of her shirt as it lifted, exposing the top of one creamy pale hip. He was also sure not to let himself notice the flat expanse of skin stretched tight across her slender belly as it swept down and disappeared into the soft cotton of her tattered shorts, or the way her back ached slightly inward just before sloping out to form the curve of her—

He jerked his head back forward and gritted his teeth as a fit of twitters erupted over his shoulder.

Determined to tune back into the conversation at hand, he ignored the analytical murmurs behind him as they began discussing the merits of gaydar and if it possessed any sort of real life reliability; valiantly ignoring his father's appreciative hums and the turn of sketchbook pages as Rukia explained the entire thing out, via maddeningly detailed diagram.

Orihime peeked over her shoulder at the tense lines of Ichigo's shoulders and the exasperated scowl across his brow, before turning back to finish inspecting Yuri's arms. She tried to disregard the pair of phantom lips that kept brushing over her shoulder, but it was hard.

Her hands were shaking. Moving quickly, she released the arm she had been looking over before the younger girl noticed. Yuri had been through a lot tonight and it didn't look like it was going to be over anytime soon. Although Kiskue had been tactful so far, it was clearly to the point in the conversation where he needed to speak directly. The room was packed and Orihime was acutely aware of the suspicious looks the girl beside her was receiving.

Tessai reached around them, nimbly passing out steaming mugs of tea. She flicked her eyes over the table as he offered them in turn.

Uryu was waiting quietly, picking lint from his shoulder and sporadically pitching concerned glances her way. Rukia had taken up station by the door with Ichigo's father. Chad rested with his arms on his knees, and beside him absentmindedly picking his ear and staring at the ceiling was Shinji. Yoruichi scratched at her collar on a pillow by Kisuke and beside her was Ururu and Jinta.

Urahara twiddled his cane on the floor before directing the conversation back toward Yuri. "It would help if we knew exactly _who_ we were dealing with…"

Ichigo snorted, "No kidding, because the last time I checked Gin was dead."

For a moment everything went quiet.

"Ichimaru Gin? You can't be serious…" Rukia sat up straighter, looking around the room. "He _is_ dead. I saw the body."

Urahara glanced at her before his eyes settled on Isshin's and he drew a long breath. "A zanpaktou- as a creation of the soul- can be imitated, but never perfectly replicated. When two shinigami fight each other, their zanpaktous transmit energy…almost as if they were speaking to each other." He turned toward Ichigo. "You fought with him, Kurosaki-san, what do you think?"

Orihime held her breath and clutched at the edge of her shorts as she watched Ichigo freeze, his eyes flicked to hers for the barest of seconds, but she could read them as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. _Did they know…? Did they know it had been the hollow and not him? Should he tell them?_

She felt as brittle as cracked glass waiting to see what he would do. He was thinking hard, trying to summon up some sort of recollection.

Then without warning the tension in his neck eased and he looked back up. "Yeah, it was him."

Orihime let out her breath.

"But how is that possible? It's not exactly a regular occurrence in Soul Society for people to come back from the dead, is it?" Uryu asked.

"No." Isshin answered for the first time. "When a shinigami dies, their body begins to fade. It turns back to reishi. The amount of time that takes depends on how strong their riatsu was to begin with and how hard they resisted."

Beside her, Orihime felt Yuri fidgeting.

"He's still dead." She muttered, staring into her lap, before she managed to rouse herself and look up. She inhaled sharply. "He made a soul pact…probably with Tusan. I don't know. I wasn't there." At Orihime's blank look she added. "It's when people sell their souls to get other things. Usually power."

Uryu frowned. "What kind of creatures would have the power to do such a thing? Feeding from a soul, I can understand…"

Again, Yuri shifted uncomfortably.

"…but to take _possession_ and exercise control over such a thing…? Is that possible?"

"Yokai."

Every head turned toward Orihime and she realized she had spoken without intending to.

Beside her Yuri nodded. "That's what we are."

Shock flashed over Orihime and she had to fight for the air to speak. "You?"

She tried to search the other girl's eyes, but they were still downcast. Orihime looked up only finding a milieu of blank faces, before Urahara spoke.

"I believe, Kumiho-san, that given the amount of trouble that Inoue here has gone through…" He caught blonde's gaze from beneath his hat. "…she is perhaps owed a better explanation."

Although the words were spoken lightly, the girl beside her visibly flinched. She rubbed her arms, nodding, before attempting to meet Orihime's gaze. Orihime was left with the distinct impression that she and Urahara must have already had this conversation.

"It was me…I was the one that caused you so much trouble by sending hollow attacks." She took another breath, before launching in, as though she were afraid she wouldn't be able to say it if she didn't get it out at once. "See, I was at the park that day, the day you were by the river. I heard what you said…"

For a second, Orihime was lost. Then, flashes of Tatsuki telling her about making wishes on the night of the new moon whirled through her mind. Her eyes widened as she remembered speaking her private thoughts out loud. At the time it had seemed like such a magical thing to do. She had never dreamed that someone might actually hear her.

Rukia was leaning forward. "What did you say?"

_Eh…? _Orihime looked down at Yuri. Surely she wouldn't just reveal something like that out loud, _here_. _Right?_

She felt her own eyes growing, but Yuri just sort of smiled, an almost imperceptible twist of her mouth, and kept going.

"It's not exactly like what happens when you make a soul pact, but it's something we do." She frowned like the tutor she had been for so many months, contemplating how to explain a difficult subject. "There was something you wanted, so I tried to give it to you…uh, in exchange for something else."

Tilting her head, Orihime considered the words, trying to shape them into something that made sense. How could Yuri have thought she could fulfill _that_ wish? She had wished for…well…she had wished to be closer to Kurosaki-kun. Verbatim. How did Yuri think that setting hollows on them would grow them closer—

Then it clicked.

She hadn't just set hollows on them. She had cut them off from everyone else. She had deliberately put them in situations where Orihime and Ichigo would be alone.

She looked up to see Yuri watching her as she put the last of the clues into place.

"Anyone else lost?" Ichigo spoke up from behind her. "And what exactly was it you were supposed to get in exchange for annoying the hell out of us?"

Yuri's eyes dropped and she looked genuinely worried as she turned away. It was Kisuke that answered.

"In exchange for her services, she has been taking Inoue-san's riatsu." He nodded at Orihime. "To all outward appearances, it would only seem as though you were much more tired than normal."

_Oh_…

Orihime blinked at the other girl. "That was you?"

Yuri nodded.

"And…" Kiskue prompted.

The blond girl pouted. "And I sent your friend away…"

Orihime blinked again tilting her head. "…Tatsuki-chan?"

"She would have gotten picked anyway…" Yuri said quickly. "I just, sort of…rearranged the paperwork to make things fast. Because she was always with you, and I thought…" She shrugged. "I thought she might notice that something was up."

"And…"

Yuri scowled at Urahara.

"And I pretended to be your teacher…But that's _all_!"

She glanced up to judge Orihime's reaction.

Orihime scratched her head. "So…what kind of demon does that make you?"

Behind her Ichigo sputtered. "Are you kidding? She just admitted to hijacking your life, and that's all you want to know?"

Orihime thought about it before nodding. "Yuri-chan must have had a good reason!"

She smiled down at Yuri who suddenly seemed unable to meet her eyes, as Ichigo gaped, incredulous.

Kiskue seemed amused. "A relevant question…but she already told you exactly what she was from the very beginning." He met Inoue's curious gaze. "It was actually very clever. You see, there are certain terms that have to be met before she could take Inoue-san's riatsu. The first of which is Inoue's consent…"

Ichigo thumped a fist down on the table. "Orihime would never agree to something like that. It's ridiculous!"

"She wouldn't have to be aware of it Kurosaki-san. Inoue was introduced to Yuri Kumiho. She agreed to accept services from her and in return our small friend was able to collect her payment."

"That doesn't make any sense!" He insisted.

Shinji sighed before plinking him in the head with an empty tea cup. "You're the only one not getting it. What do ya think a kumiho is?"

Uryu straightened in his seat. "It's a fox…kumiho means fox in Korean."

"Tha's right." Shinji continued. "She told sweet Orihime-chan what she was from the beginning and _offered_ to tutor her, which Orihime accepted…Get it?"

He frowned. "But that's cheating…"

Shinji rolled his eyes. "_That's the point_."

"At any rate," Kiskue interrupted. "We have some very real potential for a powerful enemy…And no, Kurosaki. I've already questioned Yuri-san. She is unaware of what is intended by the others. It is clear they desire her life, so it would be inefficient on their part if they revealed their plans to her. Don't look like that. We will check into it. For now, if she will accept, Yuri-san will stay here and help us sort what is true about our foe and what is myth. And I wouldn't suggest you return to your own apartment anytime soon, Inoue-san. You're more than welcome to stay—"

"Don't be silly, old friend. Of course she will stay with family!" Isshin cut in.

Orihime swallowed, noticing Ichigo tensing out of the corner of her eye.

"I…I actually don't have any…close."

Isshin smiled at her and the warmness in his eyes caught her unprepared. Then it evaporated and he stood hiking up foot directly into Ichigo's back "Nonsense, girl! Any lady friend of Ichigo's is a lady friend of mine." He winked. "Just call me Papa Isshin!"

* * *

**A/N**

**Well, how 'bout that? Not too shabby, huh? Next time, Orihime stays with the Kurosaki's. **

**Oh, yes. I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for this...**


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Warnings: If you actually need a warning at this point, you should probably just stop reading. But don't do that!

**Authorial Notice:**

**Thanks so much for all of your unbelievably brilliant reviews! This story officially hit the two hundred mark, which makes me squeal. So to celebrate, I'm throwing you an almost solid chapter of IchiHime hotness. **

**How amazing is that?**

**My super thanks and undying love go out to Dellanotte, who resuscitated this thing on a gurney and turned it into what it is. I love her and have now decided to make her my woman. Plus, I've gotten to the point that when it's time to put out another chapter, if I have to read it one more time, I'm about ready to shoot myself in the face. So on top of saving my story, she also saves my life. Awesome, huh?**

**And oh, oh! I _finally_ updated my profile. It's actually is about me now. Yay! You should go check it out.  
**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Ichigo pawed through the top shelf of his closet, pushing aside clutter and digging out the spare set of sheets he knew was up there somewhere. The buzz of nerves that had been squirming in his gut for the last hour was making him restless, forcing him to move.

Yoruichi had taken Orihime back to her apartment to change and get a few things, but after that…she would be staying in his house. With his family. With him.

He dropped his head, letting it thump into the wall.

He needed to get a grip. They were sleeping under the same roof, not in the same room. Still, every time he thought about her staying the night, the odd urge to throw up cinched his stomach into knots. He banged his head once more, before reaching up and behind a stack of sweaters, tugging the edge of a sheet set he saw poking out.

As he pulled them from their hiding place, a book flopped out to land on his shoe. Recognizing the cover, he scowled.

What was _that_ doing in his closet?

"Ichigo, are you in—" Rukia poked her head in the door. "You are."

He shot her an annoyed glance.

"Don't you ever knock?"

"What's the point?"

"The point," He kicked the offending book off his foot. "…is that I don't have to kick your ass for seeing what you shouldn't."

She grinned, pushing the door out of her way.

"Oh, you mean that revoltingly sweet, little display earlier?"

"Ye—" He stopped, glaring at her. "What do mean by _revolting_?"

"Here it is!" She ignored his question and reached down, swiping up the book. "I wondered where I left it."

Ichigo gave the sheets one last tug, sending the pile of shirts tumbling with a curse. "I thought that was Yuzu's. Why the hell was it in my closet? And don't change the subject."

She arched one delicately curved eyebrow, informing him through body language alone exactly how juvenile she found his comments to be. "Actually, I bought it from Karin, your closet just happens to be a good place to read, and I'm not changing the subject. It's hardly my fault that you're incapable of following more than one line of logic at a time. Furthermore, you shouldn't be lecturing _me_ on manners when you're the one who left Inoue downstairs with your father for the last ten minutes." She crossed her arms. "_And_ just so you know, she has a copy of this book as well."

Ichigo tripped over a sweater, barely catching himself from smacking into the wall.

"What?"

Her brow climbed higher. "Which part?"

"All of—No, you know what? I don't want to know." He shook his head. "What did you want?"

She shrugged and made her way to the bed, sitting the book on his desk. "I have to head back to the captain and report this business with Ichimaru. I should have already left, but I thought you should know."

She watched him.

Ichigo let his irritation drop away, smoothing a hand across his brow.

Of course Rukia would want answers, but there was nothing to say. She was a full-fledged agent of Soul Society, unlike him, and was obligated to report things. And even if she didn't, he wasn't sure he was ready to tell her about his problems.

Ichigo knew how Rukia felt about hollows. She was the one who had taught him to kill the damn things. She hated them as much as any good shinigami should; as much as anyone that had ever come across a really nasty one did.

Hell, it was part of him and he still hated it.

And if it came down to it, he wanted her far, far away from the thing.

Knowing about her past with Kaien Shiba, there was no way she'd be able to fight someone else with the face of a friend, and the hollow would have taken full advantage of that fact. He would have used it to destroy her.

Inoue's situation was an anomaly. It was a mystery why his other half was so interested in her, but Ichigo was sure that sort of protectiveness didn't extend to the rest of the group. And the whole thing was already over with anyway, there was no reason anyone else needed to be involved.

Ichigo dropped her gaze and began picking up the strewn clothing. "You should go do that. You'll get in trouble if you wait any longer."

"Don't be a fool."

The words were soft, maybe even understanding in their own way, but he could feel the imminent blow behind them. His neck tensed and he didn't turn as he waited.

"What are you thinking, Ichigo? Do you know what will happen if you lose control of that thing? Do you know what Soul Society will do?"

His eyes widened with the shock of hearing the words, and he was glad he had been facing away. How long had she known? Did they all know? Had she figured it out alone or was everyone in on it? Had they been having meetings like tonight, about him?

He was frozen, staring at the wall without seeing it. He couldn't turn to face her. He didn't want to see the answers to those questions.

"Do you know what happens to a _human_ who's caught aiding hollows?"

His hand closed around Rukia's throat, but he had no memory of moving.

"_Don't you dare threaten her_."

The words were all wrong, they were distorted and primal, and part of him was alarmed at the sound. But there was so much unexpected rage churning in him, he couldn't see straight. The world came to him like he was watching it through a dirty window.

Alarm flashed in her eyes, followed by hurt before she masked both.

"I-I wasn't…" She could hardly speak around his grasp. "I just thought…that you should…know."

And he _did _know. He knew she would never hurt Inoue. That wasn't something she was capable of.

He fought to force his hand to release her. After a few seconds, his fingers loosened enough that she could slip out of them. As soon as the contact broke, he felt himself come back into control.

_What the fuck was that? _

His entire body trembled from adrenaline and left over anger.

"I…" His throat was hoarse and he had to swallow before trying again. "I'm sorry, I didn't…I don't know what—" He shook his head.

Rukia nodded and he could see that she was shaking as well.

She left without another word, edging around him, and leaving him weighted down with shame and his own thoughts. His head ached, a sharp pain stabbing through his left temple.

He lifted a hand to rub it away and dropped it when he caught sight of his reflection in his window. Black seeped like thick smoke in the corner of his eyes and his normal amber reflected pale gold in the light.

_What…_

Ichigo took a step closer.

It was eerie to see eyes that weren't his looking back. Facing his hollow had always been disconcerting, but this wasn't his inner world and that darkness didn't belong there. Through the open doorway, he could hear his father's booming laughter drifting up the landing, mixing with Inoue's softer tones.

The black flared.

…_the hell?_

He tried to feel for his hollow, searching the back of his mind and upturning every spare thought, making sure they were his.

There was nothing.

Rukia's words seemed to grow teeth as he stood facing himself.

What did happen to humans that were caught aiding hollows? Imprisonment? Death?

He didn't need to wonder if they were capable of something like that. Look at Urahara, even after they knew the truth he was still banished. The vizards, they had been victims too, hadn't they? And the Quincy had practically been exterminated.

He closed his eyes.

How could anyone ever consider Inoue a threat?

No, that wasn't right. It was him, he was the threat. She was just the one being dragged along with him. Again.

All the people in Soul Society that he considered his friends, would they really stand by and watch her be taken away?

He didn't know.

The thought of Inoue being hauled in front of a court, of being made to answer for his crimes, sent a fissure of rage seething through his chest. It was so deep that it left him gritting his teeth against the sheer immensity of it. He was gasping by the time it subsided, bracing himself up on his desk with one arm.

_What was wrong with him? _

He didn't need to turn to feel her behind him. The wood creaked softly beneath her feet.

* * *

Orihime made her way up the stairs, wondering what she would find when she got there.

Rukia had been more shaken than she could remember seeing her in a long time, pulling her away from Isshin with a fake smile and a story about needing Inoue's opinion on some trivial matter.

She had followed the small shinigami into the back of the house, until they were out of hearing distance. When Rukia turned to face her, there were shadows in her eyes and the sharp edges of anxiety.

She began without preface, speaking straight to the point. "I don't need you to tell me what's going on- I can guess why you haven't- but there's something's wrong. With _him_."

Rukia's eyes darted toward the ceiling in the general direction of Ichigo's room and she sighed, crossing her arms. The gesture it lacked its usual defiant attitude. It looked defensive, like she was protecting herself from some unseen foe.

"Honestly, Inoue, at this point, you might be the only one left that can help him. He listens to you. Just be careful, okay?"

Orihime had nodded mutely, watching Rukia turn and walk back down the hallway.

Now she stood in the doorway to Ichigo's room, watching him as he faced away from her.

His aura flared and shifted, and Orihime wondered how his father hadn't noticed it. Did Isshin not know? He had to, it was _glaring_. But then, why would he intentionally avoid Ichigo while he was so obviously struggling?

Inoue stepped closer, trying to discern his mood from the rigid lines of his back. She itched to smooth them out, to drag her palms over them until they relaxed. She wanted to anchor him, hold him, but she didn't know which Ichigo she would be wrapping her arms around. The spiritual pressure was just a little too dark, the stillness of his body just a little too primal.

Orihime wasn't sure how she felt about the hollow anymore. It wasn't exactly fear she had towards him, more like a healthy respect. He tended to do whatever struck him as worthwhile at any given moment. His hollow was unpredictable. That was the problem. But still, he had saved her. And even as silly as it sounded, she didn't think he was all _that_ bad.

Or, at least, not as bad as he could have been if he'd wanted. But he was a part of Ichigo, so she guessed that made sense. Some parts of them were bound to cross over.

Encouraged, she took a step closer, close enough to touch him before jerking to a stop, feeling a chill down her spine.

He was watching her.

In the cool reflection of the bedroom window, his eyes followed her every move.

She swallowed, because Rukia had been right. The look in his eyes was that of a chained beast. What had happened to him?

"Kurosaki-kun?"

He flinched, turning away so that she couldn't see his face.

"Is something wrong?"

"Everything's fine, Inoue. I'll be down in a minute."

He was calling her Inoue again and for some reason, it hurt. She tightened her bottom lip to stop it trembling.

Why? After everything they had been through, why didn't he trust her?

"That's not true, Kurosaki-kun."

She reached out, brushing his arm and she could feel hard muscles quiver under her touch. He tried to shrug her off, but she wasn't having it. He did too much. He fought for and protected every one of them, but who fought for _him_? Who was going to help _him_?

Orihime wasn't a fighter, she knew she wasn't, but this was a battle she wasn't going to back down from. She hated pressing him, but she would have to. She wanted him to know she could handle it.

He could be stubborn, but she was ready for that, and she could be stubborn, too. So when he pulled away from her, she stepped around him, under his arm and directly into his path. And he was so startled by the force of her resolve that he forgot to pretend to be alright.

She watched surprise flit over his face as he swallowed at her proximity, but she didn't stop. If she did it, he would bolster his defenses and she would never get in.

"Uh, w-what are you—"

She could see his pulse hammering in his throat, and her treacherous brain thought that if she stood on her toes or if he lowered his head just a bit…

Orihime shook herself fiercely, hardening her resolve. "I want to help you, Kurosaki-kun."

He took a step back and she closed the space again.

"Please…"

When he nodded without further argument, she blinked. Well…that had been easier than she had thought it would be.

She nodded back, giving him her firmest look. "Okay, then."

Settling onto the floor, she tucked her legs under her and pushed her hair back, taking a breath when he made no move to speak. "I talked to Rukia, before she left, and she said—"

"It doesn't matter what Rukia said." Ichigo cut her off. His fist clenched on his knee. "I won't let them take you. _Ever_."

He met her gaze so that she could see his conviction and she swallowed. Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe.

"You don't have to worry about it, they won't find out. I'll make sure of it."

Orihime shook her head. She was missing something. "No, that's- She just said she was worried about you..." She trailed off. "Are we in trouble?"

His mouth fell open, she could see his momentary panic.

"N-no, of course, not. You know, uh, I think you're right. She was probably just worried for nothing." He stood up and smiled, scratching his head. "What's Yuzu making? It smells great. I don't think I've eaten since yesterday."

She blinked at him. "Popcorn."

"Yeah? Well, let's go get some."

He walked out the door, leaving Orihime to follow behind, once again seeing the stressed set of his shoulders.

* * *

Four hours later, Ichigo and Orihime cleared cups and bowls from the living room as Isshin carried a sleeping Karen and Yuzu to bed. Ichigo shook his head at him as he slung a daughter over each shoulder and began making his way up the stairs.

The night hadn't turned out half bad, even as distracted as he had been. And Inoue seemed to have fun, entertained by their wrestling and smiling at his father's antics, so he had tried not to punch him as hard as he might have otherwise.

He dropped the dishes into the sink and rubbed his sore knuckles, watching Orihime try to wring a candy wrapper off her fingers into the trash. She was worried about how strange he was acting. He wanted to put her mind at ease, but he also didn't think telling her about what Rukia had said would do that.

Inoue sat the last of the dishes beside him, with a yawn.

"Tired?"

She smiled at him, belatedly covering her mouth. "Sorry. I feel like I haven't slept in forever."

He nodded. "It's been a long day, come on, I'll show you where you can sleep."

She followed him out of the kitchen and he paused by the sofa. It wasn't exactly a comfortable place to sleep, what was the old man thinking? It got cold downstairs.

He scratched the back of his head.

She walked around him, peering up at his uneasy expression. "Here?"

His muscles jumped at the tickle of her hair against his arm, and he wondered if she had always stood so close to him.

He shook his head. "This is where I'll be, in case you need anything. You can sleep upstairs."

The silence lasted a beat longer than normal.

"…Upstairs?"

He shifted, eyeing the steps that led to his bedroom. "Yeah"

"Where upstairs?"

She squirmed beside him, but he didn't look down as he set his face into a scowl. A fine tremor worked its way through his stomach and he shifted his feet again before directing them to move.

"Where do you think?"

Even though he forced himself to walk at his usual pace up the stairs, it seemed to take longer to get there. He stared at his doorknob before reaching out to twist it with damp palms, Orihime followed quietly behind him.

He flicked on the lights. "I didn't change the sheets yet."

"That's okay, I-I can manage."

"Sure." He rubbed his arm. When had his room had started to feel so small? Like there wasn't enough air. "I just need to grab something to sleep in. What about you, do you have something?"

"I do."

Her eyes went wide and she waved her arms.

"Uh…I mean, yes, I have a change of clothes, is what I was trying to say, not, _I do_." She waved her arms more franticly. "Not that I…uh, don't, because I might, but it's just a little bit sudden for that—"

He latched on to a wrist before she hit herself. "Inoue, its fine. I'll just go now."

Pulling open a drawer, he grabbed the first thing off the top and spun, backing out slowly. "So…uh, goodnight."

Ichigo shut the door without making eye contact, hearing her softly spoken goodbye from the other side. He frowned, clenching fingers around the fabric in his hands. Well, that was a _great_ idea. What the hell was wrong with him?

He stepped back and made his way to the bathroom, tossing his nightclothes down on the counter.

This wasn't that big of a deal.

Inoue was sleeping in his room. Rukia had slept in his room for months.

He reached out and twisted the tap before pulling his shirt over his head. And that had been _while_ he was in it. So, this wasn't a big deal.

Just because it was Inoue, and she was sleeping in his bed, it didn't mean anything.

He pressed his thumb and forefingers into his eyes.

It got cold downstairs, that's _all_. And he wasn't going to think about what she was doing, because it really wasn't a big deal. At _all_.

Tugging off the rest of his clothes, he tossed them into the basket before stepping into the shower and turning the hot water up as high as he could stand it. Steam billowed in clouds, making it difficult to see and breathe, but the heat worked to loosen out the overly tight muscles in his neck.

He leaned against the tile and tried to relax.

Everything was messed up. He thought he had subdued his hollow. It hadn't made any movements or sounds, nothing but silence. So what was that thing earlier? A fluke? A remnant from when it had been in control?

Ichigo reached for the shampoo and began scrubbing his scalp, trying not to think about what his other half had done while he was out. And trying not to think about it, only led him back to Orihime and thoughts of her sliding between cool sheets back in his room.

He slammed the tab down on the shower, cutting off the water and grabbing a towel.

He just needed sleep. Sleep and everything would be clearer in the morning.

* * *

In the blackest hours of the night, Ichigo awoke with a start and knew all at once that something was wrong. He sprang forward into a sitting position, throwing his senses wide and listening for a sign as to what had woken him up.

Someone was there.

In the entry to the kitchen, he could see the dim outline of a slim silhouette with auburn hair. She stood motionless in her flowing white gown.

Pain ricocheted through his skull and he dropped it into his hands, hissing against the searing flash. He shoved the blanket off his legs and worked his way onto his feet, mumbling Orihime's name around his sluggish tongue.

When she didn't respond, he released his head and looked up to see that she was gone.

He frowned, glancing around and calling her again. She was at the other end of the couch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He stumbled forward.

Reaching out, he grasped her shoulder and found it warm and wet beneath his palm.

From the gashes in her shoulder, dark liquid flowed seeping into her nightgown. Ichigo pulled his hand back only to find it covered with blood, claws extended out from his fingertips like knives. She twisted as she fell, revealing a hole in her belly where her life leaked away. Her eyes wide and empty, and as she hit the ground, his lips curved into a brutal smile—

Ichigo shot up with a strangled gasp, panting one deep breath after the other, fighting to draw in air.

Orihime.

Where was she?

He reached out with his mind, forcing his spiritual awareness further than he usually found comfortable. Her soft riatsu radiated in deep flowing patterns from the floor above.

Ichigo pushed off the couch, running a hand through his hair and letting out a shaky breath. The damn dream had felt so real. Even now, he half expected to turn around and see her standing there. He scrubbed his eyes with his fingertips and paced around the coffee table.

The urge to keep looking at the doorway was overwhelming.

He felt for her pressure again, trying to latch onto it before releasing another sigh. He could always just go check on her; just to be sure she was fine. Then he could relax and go back to sleep.

His feet carried him forward before he had intentionally decided to move.

The first step squeaked and he flinched as the sound carried too far in the quiet house. Making it to the top of the stairs then to his room, he hesitated before twisting the knob and pushing the door open a few inches.

He was just going to confirm that she was fine. Then he would leave.

Poking his head around the door, he listened for the quiet sounds of her breathing, but he couldn't hear anything. The bed was a mass of jumbled blankets and he couldn't make out her shape or see her face.

_Damn_, this wasn't working at all.

The Inoue from his dream floated behind his eyes, lifeless and unnerving, and little tongues of apprehension slithered down his spine.

He pushed the door another couple inches, just enough so that he could slip through. With deliberate movements, he made his way to the bed, until he stood beside it, only an arm's length away. Her hair poked out from beneath the covers, but it was hard to tell exactly where her head was.

He scowled at the bed.

If he pulled them back, he might wake her up by accident. He should leave. He should just turn around and walk out before she woke up.

Ichigo reached down and slowly peeled back the blanket, careful not to pull her hair in the process. But all he found was a lump of pillow.

_Damn_.

He tilted his head, trying to make out a human shape under the pile.

How had he talked himself into this?

Trying another corner, he leaned further over the bed, towards the wall and dropped it when he uncovered a leg. Then he blinked.

She was upside down…

That was why he couldn't tell where her head was. He followed a tress of hair back to where it disappeared from view and very slowly lifted the sheet.

Orihime's cheek rested on top of one folded arm and softly parted lips formed a small pout in her sleep. He pulled it a few inches further until the sleeve of her yellow shirt came into view.

There.

No dead eyes, no bloody shoulders, no gaping wounds where her stomach should be. She was fine. He replaced the covers back over her shoulder, feeling strangely comforted by the little snoring sounds she made in the back of her throat.

He had overreacted. That was all there was to it.

Ichigo straightened and turned to the door when he heard rustling behind him.

He grimaced.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

The thought of darting out the door and running for dear life crossed his mind before he quickly squashed it. That would only make things worse. She might not even remember this tomorrow, or maybe, he hoped, she would just think it had been a dream. Ichigo sighed and turned back as she stirred, sitting up and pushing aside blankets.

Then her hair dropped away from her shoulder revealing the three long translucent lines left behind by his hollow. By his side, his fingers twitched and the hair on the back of his neck tickled.

He couldn't take his eyes off them. They were actually somewhat attractive with the light hitting them from behind, causing them to stand out in stark contrast. Like a brand, a mark of ownership. He wanted to run his tongue over them, taste them while he took her.

_What a strange thought._

He watched as another tendril of hair fell over the mark before its weight dragged it down, pulling it away and leaving her exposed once again. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

And she hadn't changed the bedding. He hadn't noticed that before, but now, as he breathed deeply, he could smell his own unique scent on her body, mixed in with her lighter one.

Every inch of his flesh burned. He could hear his heart pounding as if it wanted to escape his chest.

* * *

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Orihime sat up, rubbing her eyes.

What was he doing here? Was he hurt? She peeked up at him from under sleep heavy lashes.

She couldn't see his face very well, but his figure stood out against the gloom, illuminated by the dim light floating in through the window behind her. He was standing perfectly still and she could see the light in his amber eyes as he stared down at her. His posture was so predatory he looked inhuman.

A shiver, like the fine tip of a feather, trailed up her spine. But there was no fear in it, only anticipation. She clenched the sheets between her fingers, as low in her stomach, something tightened in unfamiliar expectation. With a single look, he began to melt her body and any thoughts of self-restraint.

_Okay…_ She thought distantly. _This is something. Very definitely something…_

She blinked trying to bring him into focus. "What's wrong? Is it a hollow?"

"Nothing's wrong, I had a dream."

His voice was dark and low, filled with some nameless melody. The sound of it sent the creature in her belly burrowing deeper.

She licked dry lips and watched as his eyes followed the movement. "A dream?"

He nodded and took a step toward her, his almost-gold eyes flickering.

Thinking was _hard_.

Pale light reflected of off tanned skin as he brought a hand up to push the rest of her hair off her shoulder. Then his palms were sliding down her arms, leaving fire and electricity in their wake. Pure craving coursed through her veins like red-hot lava, melting her bones and devouring her alive. She felt as tight as a rubber band prepared to snap.

_Please don't… _

Her body jerked at the sensation of his warm mouth on sensitive flesh. His tongue swabbed across her shoulder, before his mouth closed over it. She couldn't catch her breath. Her thoughts collided and shattered, bursting in flashes of brightness behind her eyes.

_Please don't…stop there._

Orihime knew she should be sensible, she knew she shouldn't be letting this happen, but she just couldn't bring herself to care. The desire to stretch out her fingers and feel her palms running over his hard body was a physical pain. She wanted to slip them under his shirt and stroke the heat she could feel surging from his skin.

She should have been frightened by the force of her response or by the hunger in his touch, but she wasn't. She didn't want to look behind her anymore and she didn't want turn away. She wanted to know what he would do if she didn't stop him. _But_…she didn't want to assume, either.

She had to know. She had to know he really wanted this.

Orihime wet her lips. "What are you doing?"

Her question was a breath and it tumbled into the space between them, making the air thick and oppressive.

He pulled back to stare at her.

She wanted to break the pressure, she wanted to abandon all pretenses and just fall into him. But she couldn't, because she realized, it had never been her pretense that needed to be shed. And she would not push him. _She would not_.

He opened his mouth. "I…"

Orihime met his eyes. They were so full of some unknown emotion that she thought her heart was breaking, and she choked on all the words he couldn't say.

Then he dropped his arms and the tempest in his gaze ebbed as he veiled it. "I'm sorry."

Orihime swallowed and closed her eyes, concentrating on keeping her breathing even.

_I can wait for you…I would wait for the rest of your life._

He left, closing the door behind him and leaving her alone in the dark.

* * *

**A/N**

**Are you horribly disappointed? I don't want to be a tease…I just can't help it. There is no way I could let them you-know-what right there in his bedroom. It just wasn't going to work…or something. I don't know.**

**Anyways.**

**Reviews are like puppies. When they're cute, it gives you those warm fuzzy feelings. When they're ugly, you just sit back and giggle. That said, I love puppies. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Warnings: Rated M

**Authorial Notice:**

**It's been awhile, ne? Well, this is the longest chapter yet, almost twenty pages. I hope it makes up for how long it took.**

**Officially beta'd by Dellanotte and Muise. Both of whom are fantastic writers! Go, read, review! I'll know if you don't. (Insert serious look here) :)**

**Also something got screwed up in the formatting of this chapter and it's causing random italics. If it happens to you please just ignore it and I'll fix it asap!**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Ichigo growled from beneath his pillow.

Maybe… hopefully, he had finally cracked and lost it.

Shrill whispers speculated over a topic that was thankfully just beyond the range of his hearing, before harsh shushing cut them off.

He pulled the pillow down tighter.

Complaints arose, then arguing, followed by the scuffling sounds of a fight. Then a voice broke through to his sleep-befuddled- brain that had him wrenching the pillow aside and clutching it over his chest as if its downy consistency alone would be enough to save him. That's how he came to be face to face with Zaraki Kenpachi's mad grin.

Real men do not squeal, he reminded himself. Then he took in the bloodthirsty captain's proximity to his sleeping form and decided to consider it anyway. "You have got to be fucking kidding me..."

Several figures dotted the living room, none of which he had expected to see. He dropped the pillow and leaned back toward the other end of the sofa. Once he was farther away, he could see Yachiru and Ikkaku peeking curiously over each of Zaraki's shoulders.

"Perhaps, you should give him some air, Kenpachi-san." Unohana said.

Ichigo blinked, locating the placid speaker poised by the open door with her hands gracefully folded in front of her. Nemu drifted in behind her, carrying a dozen bags that were double her size. She sat them down beside Toshiro and Rangiku, and he see now that was where the whispering had come from. They were still bickering. Behind them stood Byakuya, eyeing Ichigo speculatively, and coming up by him with more bags was Rukia.

Flipping between annoyed to confused, and finally resting on alarmed, Ichigo finally spoke. "Why are you here?"

Rukia was arranging bags into a neat pile and didn't seem to be in any great hurry to face him.

Ichigo tensed for a fight. Soul Society had come to arrest them, why else? His badge was lying on the other side of the coffee table. He'd have to vault off the couch to get it, and he couldn't hesitate.

Yachiru landed on the sofa, causing him to draw his legs up farther and he was just about to launch himself across the room, when her words caught up with him.

He blinked. "What?"

"I _saaaid_, Really-big-boobs-san told us we could play dress-up and makeovers!"

This time when he looked up, Rukia's eyes were dancing with amusement. Realizing his mouth was hanging open, he shut it and blinked a few more times.

The world snapped into perspective.

That little violet-eyed monster had _purposely_ let him think that they had come for him.

Her gloating look dared him to say something. Ichigo narrowed his eyes. That was dirty play, even for her. She probably thought they were even now, if that self-satisfied smirk on her lips suggested anything… and with half of Seireitei standing in his living room, it probably wasn't the best time to kill the stupid midget. He gritted his teeth as Yachiru continued on, happily ignorant of his heated glaring.

"Who?" He asked when it became clear that she didn't plan to clarify that ridiculous nickname.

"The blond bitch," Zaraki added, in a rare display of helpfulness that way in no way helpful.

Hitsugaya huffed. "The 'blond bitch' is Matsumoto-fukutaicho."

A hand came up to slap the back of his head. "I heard that Captain!"

"I didn't say it!"

"Yes you did, I'm standing right—"

Ichigo cleared his throat. "And why are you in my house?"

Rukia finished stacking the bags by her brother's feet and eyed them critically. She shrugged. "Your dad offered."

Ichigo frowned. Unohana swept a deep bow.

"We are highly grateful for your hospitality."

His old man had invited them. That idiot. Didn't he know these people? They'd tear the place to shreds. Besides, there were only five beds in the clinic. Where were they supposed to sleep? He counted heads. "Why did they send so many people?"

Zaraki snorted his agreement.

"Do not show your ignorance any more than you can help." Byakuya spoke for the first time.

Ichigo couldn't tell if he was speaking to him or the other captain. He was just about to ask when Rukia stepped in.

"If we're dealing with someone who can raise the dead, they didn't send enough."

It took a moment to process her answer. He didn't recall much about the other night, but Ichimaru had seemed stronger than he remembered. Strong enough to give his hollow a good fight. There was no telling what other abilities he might have gained, and an enemy with the power to make him that way was _bad_.

Although, that still didn't mean they were all going to fit.

"Look, there are only five beds here, you can't all stay."

Toshiro spoke from the back of the room. Rangiku was nowhere in sight and the white haired captain sounded tired. "Matsumoto and I have a standing invitation at Inoue-san's."

"My fukutaicho will also find lodging." Byakuya said, monitoring Yachiru where she sat on Kenpachi's shoulder, eating a rice ball and liberally sprinkling crumbs over his spiky hair.

Zaraki's eyes narrowed.

"Heh, you guys scram, too." He spoke at Ikkaku and Yumichika over his shoulder, without looking away from the sixth division captain. "Kuchiki-hime doesn't want to be crowded."

Ichigo wondered if he imagined the tick in Byakuya's left eye before sighing, "Fine, but that still leaves—"

He broke off, wide eyed and horrified as a war cry rang out from the floor above.

_"GOOOOD…MOOORNING…"_

Ichigo was over the back of the couch and gone, hitting the stairs before anyone else had time to grasp the over-excited exclamations.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

He hadn't told his dad he was sleeping downstairs instead of Inoue. He took the steps three at a time.

* * *

Orihime smiled and stretched, rolling over to bury her face into Ichigo's pillow. His bed might not be as soft and padded as hers was… but on the other hand, her bed didn't smell this wonderful.

She sighed and pulled the covers over her nose so that none of it was wasted.

His scent was fresh and deep, like rain and cut grass and something so him that she didn't have words for it. Like a dream.

Well, not exactly like _her_ dreams, because she usually didn't wake up alone.

Heat crept up her face and delicious shivers shot down her spine as she remembered the look in his eyes the night before. He had been so close.

The soft thudding of feet hitting flooring drifted in through the bedroom door.

She could still feel his rough palms sliding over her shoulders and down her arms and his mouth closing over the claw tracks, right beside that spot on her neck where she was most sensitive. Orihime reached a hand up to her shoulder and traced the raised lines. The little hairs on her arms tingled.

The pounding was louder and closer, just outside the door.

People must be up. She should think about getting up, too. Although, it would be hard to force herself out of—

Orihime started when the door flew open, slamming into the wall. Isshin Kurosaki surged past it, mouth set and eyes glittering with manic light. He took one more bounding step before his feet coiled under him and he crouched, muscles gathering and sliding, extracting more grace than a stealthy black panther.

_"GOOOOD…MOOORNING…"_

Then he sprung.

_"ICHI-GOOOO…"_

She yanked the covers down and screamed. Shock flashed across his face, his arms making wild flailing gestures, but he was already mid-leap.

Orihime's hands flew up of their own accord and a golden shield solidified directly in front of him. She gasped, realizing her mistake a second too late as Isshin slammed into a transparent wall.

Ichigo slid to a stop in the doorway, clutching at the doorframe to halt his sideways motion.

"You bastard—"

He cut off speaking.

His father was on the floor, clutching his head.

"I'm so sorry!" Inoue fluttered her hands in distress. "I can fix it!"

Rukia came up behind Ichigo and took in the situation. "Wow, Inoue, one hit K.O. You're getting pretty good at that."

"I didn't _mean_ to!"

Blood trickled from between the older man's fingers, liberally dotting the ground. Orihime dismissed her shield and called out her healing fairies. As they began mending his nose, Ichigo walked into the room, arms crossed.

"You deserved that, you know."

His father at least had the good grace to look sheepish as he apologized. Ichigo would have kicked him too, but those shields were hard and Inoue was already on the verge of tears. Then his father noticed… and then they were both crying.

Ichigo shook his head.

It was like those two operated on the same wavelength. He was going to have to figure out what to do about that. Noticing Rukia still poised at the doorway, he stepped into the hall, making sure to stand where he could still keep one eye on the pair in his room. "What's going on, Rukia; why are they here?"

"I didn't say anything, if that's what you're asking."

She crossed her arms mirroring his pose. He sighed.

"Thanks."

"You know, it'll be hard to keep it a secret. How did Inoue take it?"

She narrowed her eyes when he looked away and dropped her voice to a fierce whisper.

"Baka! You have to tell her, she needs to know that she might be hauled off—"

"I know that."

He watched his dad fold Orihime into a bear hug, squeezing her mercilessly until she was gasping for air. Tsubaki materialized, and Ichigo rolled his eyes as the small fairy began his usual fit of threats and insults.

"Urahara might be able to help you."

His look could have dried paint. "Would you go to Urahara?"

"Point taken."

"What was all that business about makeovers?"

Rukia snorted. "That was Rangiku's way of causing a commotion, so that she could sneak into a mission she wasn't ordered on. I'm sure you can guess why."

Ichigo looked away.

"Yeah."

Orihime giggled while his father swatted at her only violent fairy.

This whole thing had been nothing but a bad trade for the people who had least deserved it. He would be glad when it was over.

* * *

Renji held his breath, wondering how the paper pushers in Soul Society had managed to miscalculate his abilities so grievously. Clearly, Kuchiki-taicho thought him to possess some sort of god-like prowess or intelligence or just plain good luck, but given the gravity of the situation, Renji felt strangely lacking in all three categories.

Maybe he should have been flattered. It was quite a lot of faith they were placing in him. But as he bowed in supplication, faced pressed down into the rugs of Urahara's dining room, after just having demonstrated his best imitation of a hungry-little-piggy, complete with hungry-little-piggy snorts, he was more inclined to feel like he had just been thrown to the wolves.

_"__Oh, my__…" _Urahara wailed, happily waving his fan._____ "__That was by far the best one yet__."_

"What 'cha talkin' bout? The last one was ___way_ better."

"I think Urahara-sama is right, Jinta, the last one was best." Ururu mumbled.

The red headed boy turned on her. "Suck up!"

"You two are both idiots…"

The last voice was new. Renji really wished Urahara would stop growing his pack of vicious little monsters.

Focusing on a loose string in the carpet, he tried not to think about when they might have been cleaned it last._Just say the last one was best, you little shits—_

_"__Now, now, children__…_What do you think, Tessai?"

"Hmm. It is hard to say."

Renji closed his eyes, clinging to his last shred of patience like it would be his vindication. For fuck's sake, he was a goddamn Lieutenant of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. Where was the respect that was due a seated officer of his position? They should be begging him to stay, treating him as an honored guest, not doing… well, whatever the hell this was.

He was still trying to figure out exactly how he had been conned into this travesty in the first place.

The phrase 'mind fuck' sloshed around his head as he listened to the shopkeeper pronounce the demise of his hard won self-respect in an overly cheery, singsong voice.

_"Well, there's nothing for it then. We'll just have to see them all from the beginning~."_

Renji clenched his fingers into the rug, struggling to remember that even if he was skilled enough to kill the bastard, and he wasn't, they still needed him to solve a problem that could potentially destroy the world.

Again.

And he wasn't kidding himself into thinking that a little spilled blood could actually restore his lost dignity at this stage.

He began braying like donkey, hoping it was a passable impression.

Besides, what was pride really worth in the end, anyways?

* * *

Orihime grabbed her bag, spinning around to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

It had been four days since Rangiku and Toshiro-kun had come to stay with her, and she felt better than ever. No more being exhausted by the middle of the afternoon, and she hadn't even needed her alarm clock in the mornings. She just popped up, refreshed and ready to start the day.

She was also going back to school today, which was both exiting and a little sad. Yuri wouldn't be there anymore, and since Orihime's grades had improved so much in the last two months, she didn't need tutoring anymore either. Still, she decided, making one last check for her things before snapping her purse closed, it would be a good idea to visit the Shouten sometime soon and see how she was settling in.

Nodding to herself, she quietly opened the door, sneaking out through the living room so she didn't wake up her houseguests. Almost to the front, she stopped. The little white haired captain was still asleep on the couch, but Rangiku was gone.

Orihime peeked into the kitchen. Finding it empty, she frowned. Rangiku usually told her before she left and Orihime didn't see a note anywhere.

She spotted the open bar to the small balcony attached to her apartment. Walking closer, she could just make out the shifting of a female shape in one of Rangiku's skimpy nighties.

She let herself out to stand behind a woman that could have been her older sister. She was motionless and Orihime could barely see the early morning light illuminating the edge of her profile.

"Rangiku?" Inoue cut the suffix, knowing how the other woman hated them. "Are you alright?"

The taller woman visibly started, appearing to slowly regain awareness of her surroundings. She turned giving Orihime a light smile before her eyes shifted some place far away again, and the smile withered away, like a delicate flower that couldn't stand too long in the sun.

Orihime shifted, unsettled by the unexpected silence.

"Rangiku?"

"It's the scar."

Orihime's hand flew to her shoulder and her heart thumped a single shattering beat. She watched as the taller woman stepped from the railing and pulled back the edge of her shirt, revealing an uneven and poorly healed cut over her breast.

Orihime recognized it immediately. It was a sword wound.

She swallowed, feeling foolish.

"It's acting up. It's…uncomfortable sometimes, when I think about it." She shifted so that she was looking at Orihime without facing her. Her eyes fell to the hand Orihime still had covering her neck. "I thought that you might understand."

Orihime's fingers twitched, lightly rubbing the mark. She had developed a habit of running her fingers over them when she thought of Ichigo. She had been touching them a lot lately. It figured that Rangiku would notice.

Not quite looking the other woman in the eye, she forced herself to smile. "I could take a look at them if you want."

Rangiku pressed her lips, turning back to the railing with a deep breath. "No thanks."

Confused, Orihime tilted her head.

"But, if it's hurting you, shouldn't you take care of it?"

The other woman gave a laugh that held no humor. "Yes, I should."

It slowly dawned on Orihime, that they weren't really talking about scars at all.

They were talking places; places they had been, places they were, the places that could only be found by the people that had given them those scars in the first place.

Her fingers tightened on her shoulder.

After another moment, Rangiku turned and gave a bright smile that hid the sad thoughts behind her eyes. "Were you headed out?"

"I have school."

"Will that yummy Kurosaki-kun of yours be there?"

Yummy?

Orihime flushed crimson, nodding.

"Speaking of yummy things, do you have any of those pancakes?"

Orihime was going to tell her that she was probably already going to be late, but decided against it. Even if Rangiku understood the concept of a schedule that didn't include mall hours, she didn't want to leave her alone.

Not to mention, Rangiku was such a good cook that Orihime thought it would be justifiable to be just a little bit late. She gave her best smile and followed the other woman back through the glass, trying not to think about the secret things in Rangiku's words.

* * *

Toshiro lay on the couch, eyes open and staring at nothing.

He had been wrong to give Matsumoto a hard time about sneaking around; he realized now that it couldn't be helped. She did need to face Gin.

He wondered if it was like that for Momo.

No one was allowed to see Aizen, but sometimes he would find her wandering through the grounds outside of the second division. She would look lost and desperate, like she was still searching for something that only she had been able to see. Like what she remembered might become truth if she just believed hard enough.

But Rangiku wasn't Momo. She was stable and mature, and childish dreams had left her a long time ago. She had already been down this path, had already faced the worst; anything left for her was closure. And she deserved it. Not getting it would be the real tragedy.

His thoughts were interrupted as the women he had been listening to came back through the patio glass.

"Do you have any of those pancakes?"

"Yup! And bananas and sour cream."

He closed his eyes as they passed by on their way to the kitchen, having a debate about whether well-done or soft and gooey was best. He cringed as quietly as possible.

He had to get out of there.

Slowly and trying not to make a sound, he crept toward the door they had left open.

"What about cheese?"

"That's great, and we can heat the syrup up in that bowl…no, no, the one shaped like a chicken. Yeah, that's it."

He stepped over a pile of bags left from Rangiku's impromptu wardrobe embellishing.

"Do you think Toshiro-kun will want some?"

_Shit. _

He didn't wait for an answer. In one leap and not caring if he made noise, he was through the door and over the railing.

* * *

Ichigo colored as Orihime climbed the steps to her apartment, trying not to watch her decidedly feminine sway and the way the edge of that damned pleated skirt flipped up with each step.

She was trying to drive him insane. That was the only logical conclusion.

All week she had been there, just inside his line of sight, all bubbly smiles and shy glances and... _touches_.

Those were new, some sort of sadistic concoction of unfathomable torture. Not that they were inappropriate or forward or unwelcome. They were just light brushes and contacts that whipped his entire awareness back to her, making him itch to close the spaces between them. It was to the point that he found himself responding to her smallest gestures of body language. Even his thoughts were irredeemably enslaved. Every other word out of her mouth had his mind taking a trip straight into the gutter.

Ichigo was amply aware that it would be easy to reach out and run his fingers through soft strands of auburn hair or let his palms test out the curve of her hips. Except, he couldn't… not where there were so many prying eyes—

He mentally kicked himself.

_Not anywhere._

Ichigo grit his teeth, forcing his legs to continue shoving him up the steps.

He really didn't know what had possessed him to agree to this dinner. He was already so worked up just from being near her all day at school that he couldn't focus. Except, the only other option would have been to go home.

He cringed at the thought of the last week.

Having spent most of it as a buffer between Soul Society and the rest of the normal human population, he was exhausted. And if keeping shinigami from wreaking havoc on the world as a whole wasn't bad enough, Urahara and his father had officially gone insane, and not just the losing their minds kind of insane. They were full-on, diabolically, mad scientist, the Frankenstein and Igor complete with mad cackling kind of insane. Apparently, they had opted to employ themselves to give Soul Society some sort of payback for all the injustice and tyranny it had dished out over the years. And Ichigo would have been all for it… except their punishment was so randomly directed, that he was starting to suspect that they had lost their original focus and were simply tormenting anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path.

Ichigo frowned, looking down over the street, flexing fingers inside his pockets.

That was a lie. His reasons for following Inoue around like a lost puppy had nothing to do with wanting away from the house.

He sighed.

It wasn't in his nature to deceive or fake things; he liked being direct… but there was a very good reason he couldn't just push her up against that door and kiss her until she was flushed and breathless, and just as bothered as he was. Now if only he could remember what it was, because ever since he had uncovered these feelings, not acting had become an entirely new problem.

Ichigo resisted the urge to tug at his hair in frustration, instead flicking his eyes to the key she was so very slowly inserting into the lock. Pins and tumblers rattled with every tooth that slid passed the entrance, and he shifted, unable to hold still. Then at last, she turned it and pushed the door open.

As he stepped behind her over the threshold, he tried to control his breathing.

No one was there.

The apartment was quiet and dark, and he really couldn't remember why he had agreed to this. If he were smart, he would turn around or she would push him out, fast, before he did something he couldn't take back or apologize away.

Flipping on the lights, Orihime called out, but received no response. She turned back to him wide-eyed.

"I-I thought they would be here… Rangiku wanted to have a nice dinner."

She caught her lip between her teeth and he looked away, tensing all the way down to his toes.

"I'll understand if you don't want to stay…"

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

She seemed transfixed by his response, before shaking herself.

"A-alright. Uh, there's television… you can watch it while I cook, if you want."

He muttered something he hoped sounded like a positive response, before reaching for the control as she turned, heading into the kitchen. After a few minutes of flipping, he tossed it down and went to see what she was doing.

"Need any help?" He asked, coming around the corner.

She yelped at his sudden appearance, splashing sauce over her front and knocking over the flour sifter.

Ichigo grabbed the rag draped over her sink and moved to help clean up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh, no, I should have taken off my uniform or used an apron." She wrinkled her nose at her dirty front. "I'll just go change."

He wiped down the counter after she left, trying to stay occupied with meaningless tasks to keep from tormenting himself with what she might change into. Obviously, it wouldn't be anything like what his mind was suggesting. He ran a hand over his forehead, deciding not to think about it and tried instead to figure out what she was making with the ingredients on the counter.

He didn't even know what some of them were.

Orihime skipped back into the kitchen, tastefully clothed in a skirt and button up top. Ichigo blinked at the single unclasped button, before shaking his head, stopping the instant visual of his fingers undoing the rest of them.

"I feel so much better, now—" She broke off with a smile, covering her mouth.

"What's wrong?"

"You have flour on your forehead. It's in your scowl lines."

"I have scowl lines?"

She nodded, smiling again. "Here."

She forced her face straight and tugged her sleeve over her hand, reaching up to wipe it away. As she leaned forward, stretching on her tippy toes, it was all he could do not to drop his gaze to the smooth swell of her breasts, gently cupped in baby blue lace. Face burning, he kept his eyes up, wondering if she knew he could practically see all the way down her shirt.

Orihime applied herself to her task, small pink tongue peeking out at the corner of her mouth, dutifully dusting away every speck. By the time she pulled back, he was controlling his breathing, clenching shaking hands so that he didn't pull her to him. His palms burned with the effort it took restrain them.

She swallowed and he jerked his head up, realizing he had been raking her body with his eyes, and she had been watching him.

She stepped back, releasing the sleeve of her shirt. "Do you know what you want?"

"What?" His eyes snapped up. Hell yes, he knew what he wanted, that was the problem.

"Do you know what you want to eat?" She clarified.

"Doesn't matter, anything's good."

It was true. He didn't even look at his plate. If she hadn't kept up a running commentary on what they were having, he wouldn't have noticed. His eyes hardly left her.

This self-control issue was a problem. He shouldn't have come, and they shouldn't have been alone together. He didn't have any willpower when it came to her anymore.

Stacking the last dried dish into the cabinet, he turned and Orihime floundered, not having a plan after feeding him.

She watched Ichigo from under her lashes.

She didn't want to send him away, not after earlier. He had looked like he was going to kiss her, but she had chickened out and spoiled the moment.

Ichigo didn't seem like he wanted to go, either. He kept finding other things to clean and now he was wiping off her canister set, while she tried to make small talk. It was starting to make her nervous how his eyes followed her. How long had she wanted him to look at her like he was now? And she was ruining it!

She twisted her fingers and wrinkled her nose, thinking hard.

"My show!"

Ichigo looked startled.

"It's coming on…uh, if you want to watch it...with me."

Fighting away embarrassment, she waited for his answer. She didn't have to wait long.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

Orihime moved quickly into the living room, trying not to stare at him or show her surprise as they settled into the couch.

The show turned out to be a rerun, but they laughed anyway, or more accurately, she laughed and he watched her. But he smiled, so she tried to relax, working on forgetting the awkwardness between them and enjoying the show.

When her favorite comedian came on, she laughed so hard she shook and her insides hurt. Why hadn't they done this before? It was so much better to see Ichigo's baffled reactions as he tried to figure out what was going on.

She let her head fall back as she doubled up, clutching her middle and falling over to roll on the cushions.

Orihime had just realized she was falling off the couch; face headed toward the edge of the coffee table when hard arms reached around and plucked her out of her free fall. She gasped, hands flailing for purchase as the world spun around her in dizzying circles and she came to rest against Ichigo's chest.

All she could do was stare at the bunched fabric of his school shirt beneath her fingers and attempt to catch her suddenly reticent breath. Something had changed, something in the air between them had twisted and gone electrical. They were pressed so intimately together, she was afraid to look up.

Her gaze drifted anyway, pulled on a magnetic thread, following the edge of his collarbone, then the hollow of his throat, the ridge of his jaw, then his mouth. When her courage wavered, warm fingers under her chin tilted her face the rest of the way and she saw his eyes.

They burned like fire.

He leaned in and his lips came down on hers, searing nerve endings and slinging her mind into a whirlwind of disorder with the effort to understand what had just happened. Then he seemed to reign himself in, and the kiss became sweet and slow and warm as melted honey.

He held her tenderly, as if he expected her to break, dragging soft sighs and whimpers from between her lips, sending wisps of sensation down her jaw, circulating through her chest as she clutched at his shoulders. He wound a hand into her hair, holding her against him with gentle pressure at the base of her skull.

Her head reeled in the intensity of the kiss, not quite the same as anything else they had shared.

She felt tears prick the sides of her eyes, before forgetting them just as quickly when steady fingers trailed down the back of her neck, making slow circles that pushed her mind away from reason. He licked her bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth, nipping then releasing, and she opened, feeling his tongue sweep over hers in smooth, certain strokes that left her trembling as she clung to him.

Her body buzzed with new awareness, moving restlessly as nerve endings in places she had never noticed before came to life. She could feel him, feel the craving behind his soft, impulsive caresses, so overwhelming she didn't know how he could stand it. Not just sexual desires, but something deeper, like hunger on a purely primal level, as if he had been starving and only just realized it. She could feel the tension thrumming just under his skin, heat and energy barely restrained. And she was responding to it, wanting it to cover her.

The warm roughness of his palms slid down her arms, making her shiver and moan as they slid around to press her closer, his fingers coaxing flesh and leaving currents of fire that shot through her in waves. Blood rushing under her skin, her flesh became hypersensitive to his touch, tingling with the lightest brushes.

He growled low in his throat and pulled her into his lap, moving her to straddle him without breaking the kiss. She gasped and tensed as her skirt rode up and his hands found her thighs. They ran up her legs, testing the silkiness of her skin, before they swept around, over her backside and up to cradle her hips.

In the back of her mind, a small part of her brain was demanding attention, telling her that she wasn't ready, that something had gone dark inside him, and she should pay attention, but Orihime drove it back, determined not to ruin their moment. He already had her heart, and she had waited so long. And this other side of him was exciting… new and unexplored territory, and he was letting her see it.

Her breath caught when Ichigo broke from her mouth to assault her neck, licking and kissing his way down, sliding the sleeve of her shirt away, before he began the same treatment on her shoulder. Her body jerked when he sucked and nibbled on the marks over her shoulder, and she heard herself moan, filling the room with sound, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth.

But it was too much, everything felt too much.

Pressure was building deep inside her belly and down her spine, causing everything to ache with the need to be touched. Her breasts felt tight and her hardened nipples stung from rubbing against the fabric of her bra. She wiggled, needing to move, needing something else. He fingered the hem of her shirt before slipping under, kneading the skin at the base of her spine, sending hot pulses sparking between her legs.

Orihime whined.

His touch was relief and torture. Her sex throbbed, concentrated and painful as his hands played over her and she couldn't catch her breath.

He was killing her, winding her so tight she was going to combust, and it wasn't fair. She wanted to match him, wanted to run her hands over his body and touch him how he was touching her, to do anything to please him.

Feeling a shiver of nervousness scurry through her, she dropped her mouth to the column of his throat, hesitating only a second before drawing her tongue over velvet skin, tasting him. And Kami-sama, he tasted good. Better than any of her favorite foods.

She tried it again in a new spot, just under the hard line of his jaw, closing her mouth over the strong muscles that ran down his neck, sucking lightly. Jagged breaths hissed in her ear and she realized it was Ichigo.

For a moment, she thought she might have done something wrong, because he went rigid, fingers tightening on her ribs and a harsh tremor shuddering through his body. She was about to pull away, when she heard him.

"Again."

His voice was so rough and guttural it almost didn't sound like him.

She hurried to obey, working her fingers into the collar of his school shirt to pull it back, feeling exasperated that she couldn't contact more of his delicious skin. She tugged at it with haphazard motions before remembering that shirts had buttons.

Orihime swallowed, leaning back and blinking before raising shaking hands towards the collar.

His eyes followed her movements and they were so light they could have been molten gold. Along the edges, there were shadows, darker than could possibly be considered natural, but instead of uneasy, she felt exhilarated, wild and out of control.

When she hesitated, he reached between them, freeing the first several buttons before jerking it over his head.

Then there was nothing but perfectly toned skin.

Orihime marveled at the expanse of it. Smooth flesh stretched out over hard muscle. She followed the dips and curves with her eyes, her hands itching to touch it.

She leaned forward and licked his neck again, this time letting her teeth graze skin like he had. He groaned, pulling her harder into him by her upper arms, tilting his head away to give her better access.

Trailing kisses and love bites across his shoulders, she pressing her hands to his chest, filled with pride and satisfaction by his growling responses, eager to find more ways to please him.

She drew fingers down his body and over his stomach, encouraged by the quick intake of breath, hypnotized as muscles tensed and shivered. She ran small hands along the lines, traced them out with her nails, memorizing how he felt underneath her greedy palms.

Ichigo was restless beneath her, shifting and moving until she felt a hard pressure contact her right where she ached most.

Orihime gasped as lightning shot up her spine, flashing in brilliant colors behind her eyes. She could feel his hands clenching and unclenching on her upper thighs, pulling her closer and she tried to hold back her sounds, but it was too much effort. All she wanted to think about was that intense pressure. The one that lingered on the edge of pain, but was staggeringly sweet and addictive.

She pressed down against him, suddenly hot and dizzy, and Ichigo's response was immediate.

His arms wrapped around her while he took her mouth, capturing it and dragging her flush against him. Her shirt had come open, but it barely registered, because his hands were on her, hot against sensitive flesh. They scraped up along her sides, hitching her breath in her throat, before the pad of his thumb grazed the underside of her breast, pushing aside lace.

Orihime forgot reason.

Ichigo hissed between clenched teeth and she looked down dumbly to see her nails digging into his skin, making angry red marks. Slowly, she pulled them back.

He closed his eyes, breathing hard, using his hands to stop the impatient movement of her hips. Orihime tried to be still, but after a few seconds, she gave up. Little pink half circles dotted where her fingers had been and she bent in, kissing them away.

Whatever battle Ichigo had been fighting melted away in the same moment.

He flipped her over onto her back and moved over her, his tongue and lips exploring the curve her throat, then moving down to the tops of her breasts. She pulled in one gasping breath after another, trying not to drown in him and wanting to, all at the same time.

He hooked fingers into the edge of her bra, but stopped short of pulling it away and found her eyes, gauging her reaction. She nodded, not having the words to tell him how safe she felt, how secure.

His answering smile took her heartbeat. It was small, hardly more than a twist of his lips, but it froze her in place. For just a second, he looked young and unguarded, and she felt like she was seeing something no one had ever seen before. She wanted to memorize every detail.

He stretched up and kissed her mouth, before dropping back to the fabric covering her chest.

Nudging aside the fabric, he licked the inside curve of one round peak. Orihime gasped and arched when his tongue darted just under the fabric, brushing the side of a tightened nipple. Her legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord, but she didn't have time to be embarrassed by her body's wanton behavior, because Ichigo took the unspoken cue and pressed into her, where she was throbbing.

Stars exploded behind her eyes, she cried out, hands scrambling to find purchase on his back as her legs constricted, and she pushed her breasts against his naked chest. There was fire and lightning in her veins, a wild whirlwind of sensation and all of it centered in that place he was driving against.

Their movements were frantic, struggling, trying to find an end. There was too much space between them, she needed to be closer to him. The problem was their clothes, her legs were bare but his were still covered. She wiggled under him, trying to convey how dissatisfied she was with not to being able to touch more of him, but only succeeded in hindering the rhythm of his movements.

She wrinkled her nose in frustration, pulling at his pants with her toes, working them into the waistband and pushing down. Something came loose and they slid. He lifted just long enough to kick them away.

Then he pressed back into her and Orihime molded around him, yelping at how much harder he felt when unrestrained by fabric. He growled into her ear and she moaned in response to the possessive sound of it.

She could feel the wetness between them, only separated by her panties and his boxers. He twisted them again until she was back above him, relinquishing the dominant position.

It was awkward at first, but his hands lightly swayed her, rocking her into him as he watched her, groaning under his breath. But it still wasn't enough. She ran her hands over every part of him, placing open mouthed kisses along his throat and chest, still grinding her hips against his. She pressed more insistently, until he was the one writhing under her touch.

His hands cinched on her backside, pulling her panties just enough that she felt the smooth tip of his shaft brush her slickened entrance. She gasped as fire ignited in her womb, clenching her stomach and the long muscles of her legs.

Ichigo's head was back and jaw his was tight with the effort to restrain his body from acting outside of his control.

She pressed back against it, harder, feeling her body yield to his. She couldn't stop the slight whimper of pain, when he met resistance and she stilled, wiggling against the uncomfortable tightness. It felt odd, not good like the pleasure from earlier and she was about to pull back, sure she had done something wrong when she saw his face.

His eyes were cloudy and smoldering with heat, every muscle and tendon pulled rigid, and she could she them shaking against the strain.

He liked it.

His hands slid over her heated skin, her bra removed and forgotten.

The force she could feel building up in him was incredible, like standing beside a dam that was past its breaking point. A heady sense of power washed over her, feeling his unbreakable iron will bending beneath her fingertips. The pain that had seemed so uncomfortable a second ago, took on an entirely different quality in the face of it. It felt amazing. Not bad anymore, but hot, searing in its intensity, and she needed it. She needed it more than she needed her next breath.

Orihime slid down another inch, feeling her inner barrier stretched to its limit. So hot.

He was squirming beneath her, not moving forward, but powerless to pull back. Even that was almost an afterthought.

"Stop. Please stop."

Her happy world collapsed like a house of cards.

He was gasping, still writhing under her, but she ceased instantly, as if he had thrown ice water over her. Hurt and shame wrestled in her chest. Had she gone too far? She had thought he had wanted this as much as she had.

"I can't—I don't want to hurt you."

His eyes were closed and she had to get away before he opened them, before he saw how his words had already hurt her. She felt cheap and dirty.

Orihime scrambled to get away, flinching, unjoining their bodies, but his arms held fast.

"Don't shut me out." His eyes were troubled, but serious. He didn't let her go. "I hate it when you do that."

She fidgeted, dropping her gaze and watching his chest swell with each deliberate inhale before she nodded to show her compliance, not sure what else to do.

Ichigo sighed, feeling his forehead tense. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers brush down her jaw.

He was always messing up with her. Letting her feel jaded because he hadn't been able to stop himself sooner. That was low. Worse, he had no idea what to say to fix it.

He couldn't apologize, because he wasn't sorry. A part of him was thrilled she hadn't rejected him outright. Instead, she had actually welcomed him, kissed him back and then some. Part of him felt like running a marathon. He didn't want to let go, but he knew he should.

Ichigo let his fingers play over the scar at her neck, before pulling her shirt closed over the tempting sight.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

Orihime blinked. "I'm not sure."

"Will you eat lunch with me?"

"But there's no school."

He smiled, releasing her to sit beside him while he buttoned his own clothes. "I know."

"Oh."

He watched her anxious expression out of the corner of his eye and wondered if he had made a mistake.

"Here?"

"No!" He winced at his own tone, then tried to soften it. "Somewhere else… with people."

He groaned inwardly.

Why didn't he have any goddamn tact?

"Alright."

He blinked down at her answer then remembered to speak.

"I-I'll come by around noon."

* * *

Ichigo looked at the book sitting benignly on his desk where Rukia had forgotten it. The title read, _The Feminine Arsenal of a Strong, Capable, and Well-Adjusted Woman_.

He knew what was in that book.

Sort of….

He rubbed his forehead in frustration, before raking his hand through the rest of his hair.

What the hell was the matter with him? How was it possible to be so excited and so pissed off at the same time?

He had a date. With Orihime.

He had no idea how he had fallen into that. Except he did, because the puzzle pieces of Inoue's erratic behavior were snapping into place, even as he tried desperately to deny them. It made sense.

She had tried to seduce him.

And he was working desperately not to feel strangely happy about it.

But Inoue wasn't a devious person. She had never shown the slightest traces of knowledge of or even desire to play the enigmatic games that other girls played. So it was no wonder that he had been caught so completely and utterly off guard by something like this.

Ichigo began pacing, trying to track the chaos strewn path of the treacherous book from person to person. It started with Rukia or Rangiku. Possibly Urahara.

He didn't know how he _knew_, but he _knew_. And now, he had to kill the person that had corrupted her. This he also _knew_.

He glared mutinously back at the book and the source of his misery. It explained everything. She _had_ been up to something, his hollow had hit it right on the head and Ichigo hadn't even noticed. It made him wonder what else the bastard knew that he was completely oblivious to.

Shaking his head, he sighed, still having a difficult time wrapping his head around Inoue doing half of the things that he knew for a fact she had done. Or worse, still might try to do…

He frowned.

Why hadn't she just told him? He had tortured himself all these months, feeling terrible about thinking about her in a more than friendly manner. All the while, she had been hiding feelings of her own.

His lips twitched up until he looked back at the pink monstrosity on his desk.

She wanted to seduce him?

_Alright Inoue, two people can play this game._

_()_

**A/N**

**So… a **_**lot**_** of you have been requesting Ichi's hollow to make another appearance. You should hopefully be able to tell by this point, but he is most definitely **_**not**_** gone. Which brings me to my question. Would you like to see more of him or less? And if you want more, how would feel about a sequel that focuses more on the IchiHichiHime triangle? **

**I'm pinning down some of the final details for how the story will end and where it will go, so if you have an opinion on that or anything really, let me know. I take your comments very seriously **


	19. Chapter 19

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Authorial Notice:

You guys are amazing. Really, I can't believe the response for the last chapter. Thank you so much!

And the vote was _mostly _unanimous, everyone wants more hollow Ichigo. Well, so do I. Now, until I can work that up for you, I present Fools Rush In. It's a series of HichiHime one-shots, just to tide you over. Let me know what you think.

I would also like to apologize for this first part. I blame the crack.

Chapter Nineteen

Ichigo stepped out his door and felt something squish under his foot.

What the hell?

He lifted it and glanced down to find a tube of what looked like toothpaste laying abandoned in front of his door. Frowning, he hopped backwards and grabbed a towel to wipe paste off the bottom of his foot before reaching down to pick it up. It was a tube of his father's arthritis cream from the clinic. What was it doing in the hallway in front of his door?

He scowled down at his foot as the initial coldness began to tingle and burn.

"Son of a—"

His head snapped up as a high-pitched war cry filled the landing. Yuzu flew up the stairs, taking the corner at dangerous speeds, hands over her head and a tormented look across her face, followed closely by gleeful looking Yachiru.

"Come back, Zuzu-tan! We haven't finished yet!"

She raised a pair of menacing looking cooking shears in one hand. Yuzu yelped over her shoulder and re-doubled her efforts at getting away.

Ichigo sighed, grabbing the pink haired menace as she ran by and before she could actually do whatever it was she was trying to do. All three feet of her twirled and dangled in the air from his outstretched hand. Yuzu didn't even pause in her flight as she disappeared down the hall.

Things in the house were definitely getting out of control. The place was packed wall to wall with sociopathic soul reapers and their deranged concept of acceptable social behavior.

He scowled at his current annoyance.

"Just what the hell are you doing?"

She waved the scissors wildly. "Makeovers!"

Ichigo jerked his head back and snatched them out of her hand before he could lose something important. He stuffed them into his pocket and out of reach of her tiny groping fingers.

"She doesn't look like she wants a makeover."

Yachiru pouted. "Of course she does! Everyone else did, I even did Noble-britches-sama!"

"Eh… who?" He shook his head. "Whatever. Find someone else to play with, ok?"

She beamed at him.

"Ok, Ichigo."

He quirked an eyebrow at his lack of nickname, something she usually assigned to everyone and changed according to some sort of system, the rules of which, were known only to herself and changed moment to moment.

Ichigo sat her back on the ground and watched as she skipped away. Shaking his head, he stuffed the cream in his other pocket, making a mental note to put it away. He could hear traces of life from every direction and once again, he marveled at his father's tenacity to house every needy shinigami that Soul Society pushed their way.

He sighed, setting off to find some breakfast.

Looking back, he supposed that by all reasonable logic he should have known that something was off as soon as he entered the living room, because his first thought was that he couldn't remember ever seeing his dad actually read the newspaper. But there he was, huddled behind it and whispering furiously with a green and white striped hat.

Ichigo glanced around.

The living room was devoid except for the avidly interested, if not quite articulate newspaper readers. The Kitchen, however, was full and even spilling out into the dining area. He saw Unohana taking something out of the oven before passing around a plate of steaming pastries. Yumichika swatted Renji with a spatula when he tried to take two. They began to argue heatedly knocking pans and dishes around in the already noisy kitchen. It might have been warmly domestic in an odd, twisted sort of way, but he decided he'd rather not think about it.

Then he remembered his run in with the cream outside his door.

He had just pulled it out, prepared to chunk it at the old man's head and tell him to keep his stuff put away, when an intimidating shadow fell and a harassed looking Kuchiki Byakuyaentered the room. His eyes narrowed dangerously on Ichigo before flicking to his hand and the tube of cream.

Ichigo blinked, shook his head and blinked again, because he was certain he was hallucinating.

He followed Byakuya's carefully raised eyebrow up to his hairline before letting his gaze slide up further to the pink, glittery, kitty barrettes that had replaced the trademark silver hairclips of the Kuchiki clan. His normally pristine hair seemed to be of various uneven lengths, and there was… _Is that hair gel?_

In the back of his mind, he realized the whispering had stopped. Actually, _everything_ had stopped.

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"Huh?"

Ichigo looked at the ointment still poised in throwing position beside his head, scanning it to see why it could possibly be worth more attention than a Gotei Thirteen captain, looking for _all the world_, like he was headed to a little girl's tea party.

He frowned and turned back, not getting it.

Without actually doing so, Byakuya managed to give the very distinct impression, that he had just put his hands on his hips. His eyes narrowed further.

In his temple, Ichigo felt a vein twitching, spastically.

Rukia emerged from somewhere behind her brother's imposing figure, looking furious and pointing an accusing finger his direction. "In your hand, fool!"

"What? This?"

Why was she asking him? It wasn't even _his_. And it didn't really seem like it should be relevant at the moment though, considering her brother's new look, which no one seemed inclined to comment on.

"It's…you use it on sore muscles. It gets cold then hot. It's relaxing or something…" He trailed off with a scowl.

Having never dropped her finger, Rukia wiggled it with more force.

"Nii-sama, a confession!"

He heard snickering noises from behind the paper.

His eye began twitching in time with the vein in his temple.

Somewhere in the back of the house, Karen began yelling a very impressive string of curse words. "Who the hell put ben-gay on the toilet seat!"

_Huh?_

His hand dropped the tube of its own accord.

More snickering.

_Damn it._

He registered Bayakua's fist a split second before it sent him flying across the room.

()()()

Ichigo scowled, walking down the street, rubbing his sore check bone.

That was it. He was finished. Next time Soul Society needed someone to rescue their sorry asses they could find someone else.

He dropped the hand holding his face and stuffed it into his jacket.

And if the situation hadn't been bad enough, Rukia had spotted the scissors in his pocket while he was sprawled out on the ground. Apparently, the sixth division captain had been napping when Yachiru had decided to give him his makeover.

Ichigo mentally cataloged his injuries.

He had almost been killed. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. He growled.

His father had always been difficult to handle, and Kisuke did have his mischievous side, but, together? They were an inescapable vortex of destruction. No one was safe. He almost longed for the days when his father's past had been a secret.

Ichigo looked up to find he was already standing below Orihime's apartment.

A twinge of anxious excitement zipped along his nerves, strumming his senses awake. It seemed surreal. All the times he had been up these steps; he had never thought to make the trip for something like this. He gave his head one last shake before launching up the stairs, letting his hand slide up the railing.

Ichigo rounded on her door, preparing to knock when it abruptly flew open and Inoue was shoved through it and into his arms. A second later, her purse followed before the door slammed shut and the lock clicked into place.

Inoue blinked several times then seemed to realize he was there.

"H-hello, Kurosaki-kun!"

He narrowed his eyes on the door, certain he had seen a certain blond lieutenant's perfect manicure disappear behind it. "What was that?"

She beamed up at him and waved her arms.

"Nothing, it was nothing!"

She watched his lips tighten as he glared over her shoulder at the glass eye hole. She could only imagine how irritated he'd be if she actually told him what the argument had been about.

Orihime wrinkled her nose, looking down at her dress… her very _short_ dress. It wasn't exactly modest. It looked more like, well, like one of Rangiku's dresses. She supposed that made sense, considering Rangiku had gotten it for her. The older woman had taken one look at Orihime's floor length ruffled skirt, huffed, and walked out the door. When she returned, Rangiku didn't say a word. She just yanked Orihime out of her clothes and dressed her like a doll, ranting about how even _she_ didn't have enough time to watch them try and fumble through. The next thing Orihime knew, she was thrown out the door.

As Ichigo stepped back, releasing her, she could feel his eyes and had to fight the urge to cover herself. He was going to think she was indecent! Heat crept up her skin as she stared intently at her shoes. She wasn't sure how Rangiku had managed to get them on without her noticing.

Orihime blinked as the edge of her purse pushed into her line of sight. She looked up to see Ichigo holding it out to her.

"You look great."

Waves of warmth pooled into her and she reached out to take her bag with numb fingers. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat, looking away. "Ready?"

Orihime swallowed, nodding, listening to her heart beating unevenly in her chest. She could smell him, that was the problem. She could smell the scent that was so uniquely him and her mouth watered, remembering how the skin of his neck tasted against her tongue.

She eyed the enticing bit of flesh above his collar, distracted, and she might have stood there forever if he hadn't taken her elbow and led her toward the stairs. His hand shifted to the small of her back and he cleared his throat again as his fingers twitched on the skin left uncovered by her dress.

The decent down to the street was agonizing. The light brush of his fingers shifted across the sensitive bundle of nerves at the base of her spine, tickling with every step. She wanted him to push his palm flat and apply pressure, to drag it across her. Orihime felt herself moving into it, leaning closer, and then they were down and he released her.

She watched Ichigo take a deep breath, rubbing his neck before choosing a direction.

As they started walking, the brisk air cleared her mind enough that she remembered what she'd wanted to ask him.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we could stop by the shouten? I wanted to check on Yuri-chan."

He looked down at her, eyebrows raised. "Sure. Is everything okay?"

Directing them down a side road, Ichigo changed course, leaving Orihime to wonder where they had been headed.

She bit her lip. "She just doesn't really know anyone there, and Urahara-san…"

Ichigo snorted. "I get it. You want to make sure she's still in one piece."

Orihime frowned, thoughtfully.

"I'm sure Urahara-san wouldn't do anything like that, Kurosaki-kun."

"You haven't been at my house this week…" He blinked. "What did you think I meant?"

Orihime stumbled and drew to a stop. He paused, glancing back, curious to why she wasn't moving. She stared straight ahead.

He turned and saw it.

The door to the shouten was open. Wide open. Only, this time, there was no ridiculous green-clad shopkeeper standing there. Ichigo couldn't remember ever seeing them leave the door open.

He let his fingers curl around his substitute badge. "Orihime."

Gravel crunched beneath her feet and he knew she was looking at him.

"I want you to go to my house and find Urahara."

When she didn't move, he looked down at her torn expression. "I'll be fine. Hurry, okay?"

She nodded, taking a step back, prepared to leave.

"_Now, now_… Don't want to go and spoil a perfectly good plan, do you?"

Ichigo was almost too late. He jerked his substitute pass up from where it hitched on his belt loop. Fabric gave way with a snap as he slammed it into his chest, pushing his body back and jumping forward. But he hadn't been fast enough.

Orihime screamed behind him as Ichimaru's sword cut through his vacated form and it took all his effort not to look back, not to be distracted. It didn't matter. Gin's blade caught him on the withdrawal, slicing into his arm, shredding muscle and tendon. He slid to stop mid-air, pulling Zangetsu free with a flourish.

Gin smiled. "Guess you do."

Ichigo repelled another assault, gritting his teeth against the desire to wipe away the sticky feeling of blood slipping down his arm. What was Ichimaru doing here?

He twisted away from a head strike, narrowly avoiding damage. This wasn't any good. He couldn't just keep defending. Eventually, one of those shots was going to hit.

As if directed by his thoughts, he heard Inoue cry out from somewhere below. His hands clenched involuntarily on his sword as his head whipped back to see Orihime fling herself over his body, the last traces of her golden shield broken and falling away. A dark red slash split her side where Gin's blade glanced off bone.

"Inoue!"

She didn't move.

Dread choked him, clawing agonizing furrows into his chest and for a second, all he could breathe was his own fear.

Then she twitched. The fingers of her right arm clenched on nothing and her eyes fluttered open.

Gin spoke from directly over his shoulder.

"Do you know how many times I could have killed you by now?"

()()()

Orihime blinked as the world came back to her in fuzzy shapes and colors.

The pain in her side seemed dull against the fierce throbbing of her temple. Her stomach twisted and heaved when she tried to sit up, but there was nothing in her to empty. She felt at her ribcage with clumsy fingers, trying to assess the damage without raising her head again. Her hands ran over the jagged gash before touching slick, hard surface.

She swallowed.

Ichigo had told her to leave, but she couldn't have. Not with his body stabbed and bleeding out on the ground. Because, if he couldn't return to his body… Orihime shook her head only to heave again.

All she meant to do was pull it into the bushes, fix it and go. But then Gin's sword had been coming straight at them.

She forced herself back onto her ankles with trembling arms, blinking against the black and grey clouds in her vision. The bushes were over twenty meters away. There was no way she could drag him that far. She couldn't even stand.

Overhead, the clashing drawl of metal striking metal rang out and she squinted up to see the fight moving away. Ichigo pushed Ichimaru back with a force that was stunning in its ferocity, his black coat whipping around him. She hadn't seen him call out his bankai or his mask and wondered vaguely how long she had blacked out.

Orihime rolled Ichigo's body over so she could see the place where it had been stabbed. She licked dry lips and called on Shun'ō and Ayame with shaky movements, watching as they flickered into sight like a dying candle flame.

Nothing happened.

Her heart pounded dully in her temple and she squinted to clear her vision. It had to work. She must not be trying hard enough. She needed to concentrate.

Orihime pressed her palms directly into it, smearing blood from her hands and making gruesome red smudges, but the shield strengthened. She heaved a shuddering sigh of relief as the bleeding finally stopped, and flesh began to stretch and reform.

Something hit the ground beside her, pelting Orihime with gravel and dust. Flinching back, she blinked away dirt.

It was Yuri, bound and bleeding, arms twisted behind her at wrong angles.

Orihime felt chills shoot up the sides of her arms. Spots floated into her vision. The girl's pigtails had been pulled off. One still flopped limply against her head, matted and tangled in a heap of torn scalp. Her busted lips were split through, covered in red and purple bruises.

Shan-Jing stepped forward, shining, beautiful and elegant, and to Orihime it was like the pretty sheen covering an oil slick. She wanted to scream at the pop of bone as he rested a foot on Yuri's motionless form.

"_How?_" Hot tears slid down her face. "She's just a child… How could you?"

Scarlet eyes narrowed, infected with an unsettling light.

"A child…? You think because she looks like that, that makes her a child?" He blew a derisive breath between perfect teeth. "I've seen that _child_ eat people from the inside out, tear through a town like a disease, do things you wouldn't even _speak of_." His lips wound into a nasty grin, before he spat his words at her. "For just being a child, she certainly had _you_ by the throat."

He stepped toward her, but she refused to move, wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall over herself in an attempt to get away. They both knew she couldn't. And even if she was fast enough or uninjured, she would never leave the two defenseless bodies lying at her feet.

Orihime felt his footsteps in the dirt beneath her, coming closer. She clutched at the loose rocks beneath her hands.

"I don't care what she did. It's wrong. No one should be treated like that. Whatever she did to you—"

"Did to me?" He tilted his head to the side. "You've got it all backwards, pet. This isn't revenge…" He smiled. "It's pleasure."

She tried to scream, in the split second it took him to reach her, Orihime tried to call out. Then he was on her, his weight pushing her down, crushing grit and pebbles into her back and legs. Greedy fingers dug into the gash at her side and her vision clouded to black.

()()()

Ichigo dodged, twirling around to spring from the side of a building, forcing every scrap of speed he could into the action. A cascade of sword thrusts followed, narrowly missing his fleeing form.

"It's funny..." Ichimaru smiled and retracted his sword, unfazed when Ichigo used the momentary reprieve to spin on his heel, unleashing a shockwave of dark energy from Zangetsu's blade. He vanished and resurfaced an instant later, feet from where Ichigo stood. "…how you never seem to _learn_."

Metal hissed against metal as their swords met and held.

"Still got it in your head to protect them all." His smile widened. "That's why Aizen picked you, you know? How he twisted you up so easy. All those self-righteous sacrifices of yours… Where did it get you? You're still just as impulsive and naïve as ever. Nothing more than a scared little kid, frightened of his own power."

Ichigo barred his teeth, focusing his rage into his arms. He _knew_ Gin was just trying to get him worked up, get him irritated enough to make a mistake. He _knew_ it, but that didn't matter. The words hit.

He shoved Ichimaru back with a snarl and whipped his sword around, pointing the tip at the other man's throat, speaking through clenched teeth. "What do you even know about it? You couldn't understand why it was worth it, not even if you do end up living forever."

"Oh…?"

"You did everything alone, and look where that got _you_. Your scheming and plotting cost you everything, except you weren't the only one that had to pay, and I was the one that cleaned up that mess. If anything, Aizen manipulated _you_. So like you're one to talk!"

Crimson eyes gleamed from beneath heavy lashes.

Ichigo batted the strike that came at him away.

"What was it? What did you trade your soul for?" He didn't know why it was important, why it should matter so much, just that it did. He had to know. "Was it really power?"

"That's right."

Ichigo grit his teeth. "You're lying."

"You think so?"

"Why?"

Ichimaru's face flashed mock surprise. "You mean you don't know? I thought you could read a person's heart just by crossing swords with them."

Ichigo shook his head, frowning. "Not you."

"Well, isn't that inconvenient for you. And as much fun as this has been," He slipped his sword away. "I think we both have other places to be, don't you?"

He glared at Ichimaru. "What are you talking about?"

Gin paused, glancing over his shoulder and reclaiming his grin. "You didn't think I came alone, did you?"

Ichigo froze, seeing auburn locks in his mind's eye.

_Orihime...!_

()()()

Orihime floated. Numb and cold, she drifted through a grey abyss until the world shifted and she swam back up into consciousness like an air bubble resurfacing. There was something in her mouth, hot and moist. She jerked away, only succeeding in banging her head back into the ground. Hands pawed at her body, grasping and yanking in crude gestures, groping her thighs, her breasts, the junction between her legs.

Then the weight was wrenched back and she saw Shan-Jing pulled through the air as if he were nothing more significant than a sack of rice. He landed on the ground a few yards away, twisting to his feet and hissing before he cut off, recognizing his attacker.

The tall burgundy haired man from the forest encampment stood beside him, arching one delicately formed eyebrow. His lips twisted in displeasure.

"I sent you to retrieve what is mine, not to couple with an unwilling female in the dirt."

Shan-Jing's eyes went wide. He scrubbed at his mouth with his arm as if to hide the evidence of his indiscretion.

"L-Lord Tusan, I did get her." He pointed a shaking finger toward Yuri's broken body.

Tusan's eyes were like a blood colored tempest. They didn't follow the motion. Shan-Jing dropped his arm.

"Bring her."

Scrambling, Shan-Jing snatched Yuri off the ground, dragging her by the rope and turning.

Orihime struggled to move useless limbs. "No!"

Shan-Jing smirked, sneering at Orihime where she lay on the ground too weak to pick herself up. She glared and his smile vanished. He dropped his captive and stepped back toward her before seizing a fistful of Orihime's hair and dragging her close.

"Still think you're too good for me?" He eyed her closely then smiled his nasty smile. "That's going to change."

"Shan-Jing."

He ignored the sharp warning behind him, too caught up in his malice to pay regard to its tone.

"Once we cut that girl open, I'll be a _god_ and the first thing I'm going to do—"

Orihime heard the whisper of steel before she saw the motion. Then there was the wet crunch of severed tendon and bone, and a thick gush of blood as his head separated from his body. She screamed, only succeeding in opening her mouth to the acrid taste of his blood as his decapitated body toppled onto her.

The demon lord slid the katana back into its sheath.

"Reprehensible fool. What benefit is a subordinate that cannot hold his tongue?"

Orihime shoved with all her remaining strength, trying to push off the emptying corpse, but it wouldn't budge. He was dead, but she could still feel his body _moving_.

The tall yokai turned away in a swirl of fabric, clutching Yuri under one arm and raising a claw tipped finger over his head. He drew it straight down, piercing the air, shredding empty space. Then he pulled it back like a curtain and stepped through into the waiting darkness.

Orihime whimpered, fighting hysteria.

_Ichigo..._

She panted, pulling in gasp after gasp, but even though her lungs burned from the effort, she couldn't get air. Twisting, she pushed his weight off bit by bit, starting with his arms then freeing her legs, until at last she was able to squirm free. She scooted back until his body was an indistinctive blur and she didn't have to look at it.

A black figure flashed into her vision, appearing so quickly Orihime screamed and it drew up short, inches from touching her.

She jerked away from the outstretched hand, shielding her body with her arms.

"Orihime…it's me."

The shadow focused into Ichigo's anxious face.

She sobbed in relief, struggling to leverage herself up to him with frantic motions, not caring that her side tore and hurt with every movement. Then she was pressing her face into his chest, fisting his shihakushou in trembling hands and feeling his arms come up to circle around her as she wept his name.

He held her as she cried and she didn't know which of them was shivering. All she wanted to do was crawl inside of him and be safe.

Ichigo smoothed pacifying hands down her back, careful not to touch her wounds. She sniffed back tears as he pushed the hair away from her neck and his breath fluttered over her shoulder, warming her from the inside out.

Gravel crunched behind them.

Ichigo snapped his head around, pressing her against him with one arm and reached for Zangetsu with the other. He crouched over her like an animal protecting a kill, going perfectly still except for the tightening of the arm around her back. Orihime gasped with the force of it, trying to draw in a proper breath.

Blood rushed in her ears so loudly she could hardly hear the voice that spoke. But when it did, Ichigo's hand clenched at her back and he snarled.

Orihime blinked up at him, wanting to ask why he was snarling at his father, but she couldn't _breathe_. His grip was too tight. She wiggled against him, trying to make more room, but his body was as tense as an iron cage. When he growled again, she knew instinctively that he was growling at _her_.

The world twisted in her vision, blood loss and lack of oxygen combining to take her some place far away. Her head drooped before it lolled free of her control as she finally slipped through into unconsciousness.

Isshin frowned as Orihime's eyes drifted shut and he watched her struggle for air.

"Ichigo," He spoke slowly, hoping to speak to his son past his darker half. "She needs to be healed."

Isshin released a breath, when Ichigo slowly relaxed his grip on the girl, letting her slide gently to the ground. It was a close call, way too close. He eyed the gash that took up the side of her torso. She was one hell of a tough kid. People died from wounds like that.

He spoke over his shoulder.

"Kisuke."

Kisuke twirled his cane where he stood leaned up against the wall that hedged off his store. "Momentarily…"

Isshin frowned at the top of Urahara's hat. "She doesn't _have_ momentarily."

The spike of spiritual pressure jarred pebbles on the ground and he looked up just in time to see Ichigo launch at him, eyes clouded with dark riatsu. He took the impact and rolled backwards, pushing off the ground with his hands to land on his feet. Stinging pain lanced through his chest, but he didn't look down because his son was already coming at him again.

The twisted pressure of a hollow emanated from every movement, tugging at him, weighing him down. Ichigo's lips curled into a snarl that raised the hair on his arms, because it sounded _real_.

Kiskue nimbly stepped around the shuffling pair, seemly not hearing the vicious growling as the hollow attempted to tear out Isshin's throat. "Ah, how sweet… father-son bonding."

Isshin yelped and dodged out of the way of a brutal sword slash. "Bonding my ass, he's really trying to get at me."

"Of course, he is. Why do you think I let you go first?"

"Kisuke…"

He tilted his head to see Yoruichi watching the fray with crossed arms and a twisted frown. He shrugged, kneeling beside Inoue and muttering the incantation to heal her side. "It's fine."

"He's getting worse. That thing is coming out anytime it damn well pleases." She turned back to watch Isshin catch his son around the waist, narrowly stopping him from slicing off the blond shopkeeper's head.

Kisuke didn't seem to notice.

"He'll outgrow it."

"We aren't exactly taking about hormones."

He hid his smile under the edge of his hat. "Are you sure?"

"You're evading the question."

"I don't think I am." The smile faded. "The yokai aren't after what we thought. And things could still turn out for the best. It seems to be quite fond of her." He eyed the hollow. "Besides, you know how I hate to meddle…"

Yoruichi glared at the back of his head before focusing back on the fight. "Become a god… what a ridiculous scheme."

She strode forward and slammed a fist into the back of Ichigo's head, knocking him out cold.

Isshin gasped, falling free from his son's stranglehold. "T-thanks…"

"Whatever, you two can carry them this time."

()()()

A/N

Poor Ichigo and Orihime, that was the worst first date ever.

On a _completely_ different side note and my pure curiosity, who do you think is hotter Grimmjow or hollow Ichigo? I just read a poll where Grimmjow beat Hollow Ichigo out 2 to 1.


	20. Chapter 20

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Warning: Rated M

**Authorial Notice:**

**So yeah, I broke my own rule on this chapter and did something I said I wouldn't. Mostly because the more I thought about it, the more fun it seemed. But no spoilers, you'll know when you get there :)**

**Grimmjow and the Hollow had a perfect tie. I was shocked. :O**

**Also, I totally wrote most of this while listening to 'Infinity' by The Xx. YouTube it. It will totally make your experience. Unless you hate them. And in that case, you didn't hear it from me. **

Chapter Twenty

Ichigo launched into the alley, hearing the clinic door slam shut behind him as he squeezed his eyes closed and pulled in deep breaths.

Waking up to Inoue pale and bleeding wasn't an experience he ever wanted to repeat. He leaned back against the wall, feeling sick all over again as images of his father cutting her dress away flashed through his mind. There had been so much blood. She was covered in it. He had thought—

He pressed his palms into his eyelids until he saw spots.

She was _fine_. Not dead. _Fine_.

He kept repeating it over and over until he heard the door open beside him.

"Ichigo."

He looked up and his father came into focus as his vision cleared.

"She's sleeping. I gave her a light sedative. It should wear off in a few hours."

He nodded, not sure what he was supposed to say to that. Not sure he would be ready to face her when she woke up.

Isshin watched him. "Worried?"

Ichigo grit his teeth. "Don't ask questions that should be obvious."

"Fair enough. What are you doing about that hollow of yours?"

"What?" Ichigo could feel his face dim into empty lines of shock. It shouldn't have been so surprising, he knew his father knew, but to hear it out loud… He hadn't expected that. Isshin usually gave him more than ample space with things like this. He scowled and raked a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

"I mean, not that it wasn't entertaining to watch you take interest in a girl for once. A person does start to get the wrong idea." He scratched his beard. "But climbing on her in a public place? Kind of tacky."

"I did _not_ climb on her!"

Isshin gave him a look and he could feel heat flooding his face.

"You don't remember?"

"Trust me. I would remember something like that." Ichigo blinked as he realized what it was he just said and to whom he had just said it. "I-I mean, I wouldn't do that."

Isshin turned, stuffing his hands into his pockets, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"That's a shame. I was looking forward to grandchildren." He paused at the corner. "Glad to see you're feeling better. By the way, her dress was a lost cause. You might find something she can wear. Unless, it doesn't bother you if she runs around in a paper gown."

Ichigo stared at the empty corner, blinking as his irritation drained away then rushed back up in an odd sort of circle.

He turned and wrenched open the door, stomping back in and up the steps that led to the second floor. What kind of question was that? Of course, he cared. Those damn things didn't even close. There was no way that was happening while there was a scrap of clothing left _anywhere_ in the house. He'd strip the shirt off a dead shinigami first. Especially, if they tried going anywhere near her while she was in that state of dress.

Entering his room, he stopped at his dresser, one hand resting on the handle. Had he really climbed on her? It was possible Isshin was just having a laugh at his expense, but Ichigo didn't think so. There had been something serious in his father's face when he had said that.

He shook his head, pulling open the drawer and grabbing two sets of clothes before making his way to the shower, closing the door behind him. It was strange. The hollow had been so quiet that Ichigo hadn't thought twice about him. But now, he wondered if that was right. If what his father said was true, then it wasn't being quiet at all and he just had no knowledge of it. Like a blind spot.

Disturbing, but so was the idea that the hollow might slip the leash in front of someone from Soul Society. And what would he do then?

Ichigo jumped and spun as the door banged open, revealing Rukia clutching small fists and spitting mad. He tripped over his pants trying to pull them back on.

"Hey! Hey! What the hell is with you and doors? Get out!"

He scrambled out of the way as she aimed a fist at his jaw.

"You left her alone? What do you mean what's with me? What the hell is the matter with you?" She took another swing. "Are you stupid?"

Ichigo drew up short, brow tensing in a different way. It took him a second to answer. "I don't know... Maybe."

He rubbed his neck and sunk to the edge of the tub as Rukia crossed her arms, tapping a toe and fighting off another violent impulse. She was right, but he didn't need her to tell him what he already knew. He had been thinking it since the moment he had awoken beside Orihime in the clinic. His head spun with the weight of it.

He had been so damn _reckless_.

"If she had—" His throat closed on the word and he stared hard at the tiles as a heavy weight pressed against his chest.

He didn't look up when Rukia knelt in front of him.

"You screwed up." She ignored the wince her words caused and pushed on. "If you're really so upset about it then don't do it again, Ichigo. It's that simple. Decide that you will do better next time." She hauled him up by his hair until he was looking her in the eye. "And you _will_ do better next time."

He swallowed and she stepped back releasing him and crossing her arms.

"Say it."

"I'll do better next time."

"Right. Be sure to tell Inoue that when she wakes up." Rukia smiled as if she had just taught him a new trick. "And take a bath… you're filthy."

Ichigo huffed, brow ticking slightly as she left and he hurried to push the door closed, sure to lock it.

His hand tightened on the knob.

He would do better next time. He'd do more than better. He would kill Gin. He would kill anyone that came near her. He'd make damn sure everyone knew what happened when you touched Inoue Orihime.

A knock on the other side of the door jerked his head up. It was Karin.

"Inoue's awake. Do—Hey…"

He pushed past, snatching the clothes he had picked and hurrying down the stairs. He was almost to her door when he drew up short. He still had no idea what he was going to say. Ichigo rubbed circles on his temples, struggling to calm his irritated thoughts while ignoring his father's laughter on the other side.

Then he heard what was actually being said. Color rose to his face as he flung open the door.

"He had the cutest little butt… Loved to take his clothes off and run around the house. His mother would laugh—"

"Stop! Stop talking!"

Orihime jumped at the sudden interruption and her eyes went wide before she saw him and visibly relaxed, letting out her breath. Guilt pricked his conscience, stopping him in his tracks. She didn't look at him as she pulled the gown back up so that Isshin could finish examining her side. There were no marks left that he could see, not even a scar.

"I believe I'm finished here." Unohana spoke from beside him and Ichigo noticed her for the first time. "If you need further assistance, Kurosaki-san, please let me know."

Isshin mumbled an affirmative without looking up, still feeling Inoue's ribcage.

She left and Ichigo turned back to Orihime. She hadn't said anything when Unohana walked out and she hadn't looked at him since he busted through the door.

"Just passing the time, Ichigo." Isshin tugged her gown back down with a warm smile. "Well, that's about it. Good as new."

Ichigo's brows drew down when Orihime continued to watch the wall, gaze unfocused. He took a step closer.

"Hey, you okay?" No response. "What's wrong with her?"

Isshin walked around the table, placing a paper cup on the bedside tray. "Shock. She's been doing this off and on. It's a normal response. You did it for a while, after the war."

"I did?" He turned back as his father nodded.

"Sometimes, it helps to talk about it."

"She never talks about what bothers her."

Isshin nodded again, setting aspirin and something else beside the cup. He looked tired. "It's worth the effort. Make sure she takes these."

The door clicked shut and Ichigo raked a hand through his hair. Not sure what else to do, he stepped in front of her, blocking the wall.

She flinched then blinked, looking around. "Where…?"

"He left. You're done. I got you something to wear, it probably won't fit, but it's better than nothing." He shifted his feet, remembering the pills and handing them to her. "You need to take these."

She looked at the cup before taking it and Ichigo frowned while she swallowed the medication. He didn't like the empty look in her eyes. She hadn't been this bad after Hueco Mundo. At least not that he could remember and the idea of a problem he couldn't fix set his nerves on edge.

He waited for Orihime to finish before leading her up the back stairs to the shower, making sure no one spotted them on the way there. After checking to see that she had everything, he shut the door, leaning his forehead against the cool wood and listening to the shower come on.

"How is she?"

He turned to see Renji. Ichigo let his shoulders rise and fall.

"She's tougher than she looks, Ichigo." Renji paused. "Everyone's downstairs when you're ready."

Ichigo didn't say anything as Renji left, just leaned against the opposite wall and watched the bathroom door.

Kisuke had called everyone together, told them what had happened. All that was left was settling how they planned to go after them. He leaned back, closing his eyes while he waited. After what seemed like a few seconds, the door opened and Inoue stepped out.

Ichigo shook his head. He must have dozed off standing up.

Little drops of water fell from her hair, hitting his toes and he held his breath as she finally looked him in the face. The clothes were too big. The shirt swallowed her, dipping slightly between her breasts and his pants dangled from her hips. She had double-tied the knot just to keep them on.

Even knowing he was staring, Ichigo couldn't look away.

It couldn't have mattered less if she was in his baggy sweats or her hair was tangled. He didn't care if she dyed it black or even shaved it off and got tattoos like Renji's. She was so beautiful that it hurt.

He loved her.

The realization hit him like a tidal wave, and he had no thought of it before it was knocking the air from his lungs and sapping his strength. He sagged against the wall and closed his eyes again, numb.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

"Ichigo."

"What?"

He looked up. "My name is Ichigo."

His hands slid into the wet hair on either side of her face and Orihime's eyes widened. Her mouth moved to form the syllables, but no sound came out. It sounded perfect.

He kissed her, their lips barely brushing in a chaste caress. He wanted more, but he forced himself back as her mouth formed a small O. The depth was back in her eyes and he wondered why he hadn't thought of that sooner. She was watching his mouth and he felt it kick up at the edges.

Something crashed downstairs, reminding him that they had somewhere else to be and Ichigo cursed the spirit world for the thousandth time that week. He glanced down the hall, toward his bedroom. No one would ever catch them if he just grabbed her, jumped out the window and ran as fast as he could.

Ichigo shook his head. "We should get down there."

She nodded and he grabbed her hand, leading her down the stairs before he could change his mind. A warm feeling crept through him as he felt her fingers twitch, moving to hold on to his and he smiled, glancing at her blushing face over his shoulder.

The living room was packed, shinigami in various shades of dress lazed around every wall and sitting space, listening to Urahara. Ichigo edged around until he spotted a place on the floor they could sit that was reasonably un-crowded and far away from his father's eyebrow waggling.

"…A gate is easy enough to construct. A gate that doesn't need to cross between realms is even easier. The one I plan to build will trace Ichimaru Gin's riatsu, courtesy of Captain Kurotsuchi, and take you straight to where he exited the veil."

Hitsugaya spoke. "How do you know they didn't cross into Soul Society or Hueco Mundo, or even the Spirit Realm?"

Kisuke smiled, pleased to share his knowledge. "Ah, what an insightful question. The ritual needed to perform a godhood rite is precise. It's specific to the yokai tribe, namely the kumiho. This one must be performed on their birthing grounds."

Ichigo looked up. "What do you mean _godhood_?"

"Hmm?" Kisuke blinked at Ichigo before tapping his hat with his fan. "Perhaps a short recap is necessary for those just joining us."

Uryu pushed back his glasses. "For Kurosaki, it should be a _very_ short recap."

Ichigo glared, but didn't respond as Urahara pressed on.

"Very well. Godhood is what we believe the kumiho lord is after, something that was confirmed by both our young fox friend and the yokai Shan-Jing."

Orihime nodded beside him. "He said he would be a god…"

"But that's a myth. It's not possible."

Urahara just looked at him. "It's quite possible and Tusan wouldn't be the first. There is a reason yokai were hunted almost to extinction. We think that's why they went to all the trouble of locating the girl. The ritual calls for a priceless sacrifice, something precious to the caster. For the demon lord, it was his own blood. So he chose a blood sibling."

"His sister?" Orihime's hand tightened around his wrist, and he knew what she wanted to ask. "How do we stop it?"

"Depends…" Yoruichi stepped forward.

"On what?"

"On whether we get there in time. If we do, it won't be a problem. They'll be outmanned. If he sacrifices her, we'll be dealing with a deity." She looked back at Kisuke. "Much harder to kill."

"God's can be killed?" Uryu arched an eyebrow.

"Another insightful observation! A god isn't _necessarily_ immortal. In theory, he should still be quite corporeal. Powerful, but not infallible."

"That's what we're counting on?"

"You have a better suggestion?"

Ichigo closed his mouth and turned to look at Orihime. She watched her lap.

Renji spoke from the couch behind them. "Sounds easy enough."

"That would be the idea, yes."

"The Captain Commander was clear on his instructions regarding Ichimaru." Hitsugaya spoke, glancing at Rangiku before continuing. "He also was clear on his instructions regarding these yokai. They are to be handled as dangerous liabilities to the world of the living. We kill on sight."

"What about Yuri?" Orihime was watching the white haired captain, hanging on his words.

Unohana spoke. "We were given leave to return with… specimens. As long as the integrity of the mission is not compromised, it would not be mandatory to kill her."

Orihime looked around. "That's… That's not—"

"She's dangerous." Hitsugaya sighed. "There was a record of her in the Central Library. It wasn't nice."

Inoue stood, fists clenching in her clothes. "You sound like him. Yuri isn't like that. She's… She…"

Orihime took a step then turned and ran from the room, leaving Ichigo to scramble to his feet. Not stopping to think, he plunged after her, through the living room and out the door. She stopped at the curb, breathing hard in the street light.

Her lips trembled and she swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Orihime, you don't have to apologize." He frowned as she wiped away tears. "Nothing's going to happen to her. I promise. We'll figure something out."

Ichigo stepped up behind her and she turned, burying her face in his chest.

"What if it already has?"

He didn't know how to answer so he wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her closer. They stood that way for a long time, until the house lights went out and cars stopped passing on the street. He leaned against the brick, supporting her weight and keeping her head against his chest. It was hard to believe that only hours ago she had been bleeding to death on his father's surgical table.

He frowned and buried his face in her hair, taking deep breaths. He couldn't do that again. As much as he wanted her beside him, he needed her alive more. And that desire outweighed everything else.

"About tomorrow," He furrowed his brow, concentrating on phrasing it just right. "I think, maybe—"

"There you are, Inoue-san! Thought we lost you."

Ichigo turned his head to see Urahara coming around the corner of the house. Yoruichi followed behind him, arms crossed.

Orihime stepped away, leaving his arms and Ichigo had to fight the urge to pull her back. He scowled at Urahara through narrowed eyes. If there was one thing he knew about the man, it was that his timing was never an accident.

"Me?"

"That's right, I have something of a concern and I'm afraid you're the only one that might be able help me." He gave one of his enigmatic smiles. "If you don't mind, Kurosaki-san."

He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "Go ahead."

Urahara's smile widened. "I'm afraid it's a rather sensitive matter. One that might be uncomfortable for Inoue-san if others were present."

Ichigo straightened with a frown, opening his mouth.

"It's alright, Kurosaki-kun."

He looked back at Orihime, studying her face. She smiled and he grit his back teeth before pushing off the wall.

Letting himself into the house, he passed through the darkened living room, stepping around sleeping figures and stalking toward the bathroom. All of this rubbed him the wrong way. There was no telling what Urahara was playing at and Orihime wasn't in any sort of condition to have her mind toyed with.

He shut the door behind him and flipped on the taps. He didn't want to leave her alone for any longer than necessary, but he needed to scrub off the dry blood that had been caked on his skin since that morning. He was quick, washing hastily, eager to get back out.

Pushing through the door of his room, Ichigo froze when he spotted Orihime sitting on his bed. Silent tears slid down her face, falling into her lap. He gripped the edge of the door so hard it cracked under his hand.

Orihime's head shot up. "Kurosaki-kun."

She rubbed away tears with her sleeve, belatedly trying to cover the evidence. He registered the use of his family name, but it didn't compare to the rage boiling in his chest.

"What did he say to you?" He could hear the growl in his own voice, dark and deceptively soft.

"N-nothing."

Gaze narrowing further, he looked her over as she shivered. He took a step closer. "Don't lie to me, Orihime."

"Your eyes…"

"I don't give a damn about my eyes. What did he do?" All he needed was to hear it from her mouth then he could find the blonde bastard.

"He didn't do anything." She hung her head until he couldn't see her face. "It's me. I'm terrible."

A fresh tear rolled over her cheek. The despondency pulled at him where her soft pleas hadn't and he let it tug him back from the edge of his anger. "He didn't do anything?"

"No."

Something small relaxed in his chest and he stepped back so that he wasn't towering over her. What the hell was the matter with him? He was supposed to be making her feel _better_.

"I'm so sorry."

"Orihime, I already told you not to—"

She cut his words off with a hand placed against his lips. Even that simple contact caused a flood of heat to surge through him. It burned where her small fingers brushed his mouth, echoing in his chest and lower.

"I want to."

He didn't even know what she was referring to at that point and wasn't sure he cared. His mouth met hers and he didn't hesitate to sweep his tongue inside, tasting the natural sweetness that clung to her lips. It was too long since he had touched her. She was soft and pliable, and he shuttered as she molded herself around his harder form, letting him take as he pleased and still meeting him with an eagerness that stabbed spears of desire down his spine.

His hands moved free of his direction, sliding low along the curve of her hips then up her arms, dragging her closer. He pushed her back into the closet door, his mouth moving with more force as he took control of the kiss.

The press of her breasts dragging against his chest was maddening, but at the same time, he wanted more. Realizing the path of his thoughts, Ichigo broke the kiss. She needed comfort, right now, not sex. Stepping back, he grasping for some semblance of control before even that was beyond him.

Orihime's lashes fluttered as she looked up at Ichigo. It was like waking up from a deep sleep. One that kept her trapped under the weight of her own negative thoughts. Now, it was as if he had burned all of them away.

He was breathing hard, watching her with that smoldering intensity that told her to be careful, but she didn't ever want to be careful again. She needed this. She needed him. Orihime reached up and pulled him back. His eyes flickered uncertainty for the barest of seconds before he kissed her again and all hesitation dissolved. She pushed away every thought that wasn't Ichigo. Right now, there wasn't anything else except his mouth against hers.

She gasped between kisses as his hands wound into her hair, tangling and holding her helpless against his assault. As his tongue swept over her lips, Orihime nipped it with her teeth, relishing the low noise he made in the back of his throat. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, her body squirming against his, feeling the sound everywhere they touched. His hands tightened before one skimmed down to her hip, dragging her forward even as he pushed her harder into the wall.

There was no time to think or worry as Orihime slipped her hands under his shirt, stroking smooth skin. Hard muscles trembled under her fingers and his mouth paused as her palms moved up, gliding over the heat of his flesh. He gasped against her mouth when her hands found his chest and she ran her nails everywhere she could reach.

She blinked as he leaned back, whipping the shirt over his head before lifting her off her feet and pushing her back into the wall. Without being able to touch the ground, she was at his mercy. He pressed into the cradle of her hips and she moaned at the feel of his hard arousal hitting her right where she craved it.

Her head fell back and she gripped his waist with her thighs, struggling to maintain the delicious friction of his movement. His lips found her throat and he sucked her pulse before tracing it out with his teeth. Light and sparks flashed behind her lids and she moaned. The sound of it shattered the relative quiet and he muffled it with his hand, lifting his head as he listened for movement from the rest of the house.

Ichigo let her slide to her feet, releasing her mouth and she couldn't stop her sounds of disappointment. Jerking the desk chair out, he flipped it around, wedging it under the handle of the door so that it held fast. Orihime shivered as he looked at her over his shoulder. The meaning of that gesture and his unspoken intention was clear. There weren't going to be any interruptions this time.

He flicked out the light before turning, his gaze glinting molten gold. Those eyes burned her, made her want to look away as her conversation with Urahara once again resurfaced in her mind, but she didn't. She held his stare and stepped forward, drawing a hand over the edge of his jaw, feeling it tighten. It was a tenuous connection. She could see his other half clearly reflected in his eyes. He could go either way, Kurosaki-kun or the hollow, but right at that moment, there was a balance between them for which she was grateful. She was getting all of him, nothing held back, nothing reserved.

And all she wanted to do was cry, because tomorrow he would hate her. Tomorrow she would build a wall between them that would never be torn down and he wouldn't understand. Orihime drove the ugly thoughts away before they could ruin the moment.

He kissed the inside of her wrist before scraping it with his teeth and she drew in a quick breath as tingles shot through her arm. He took it, used it to pull her forward and around, hauling her back flush to him before snaking an arm over her waist and using the other to shove the shirt's collar away.

Warm kisses skimmed down her throat, paying special attention to the curve of her neck and finding the scar on her shoulder. He muffled her cry with his hand, still licking and biting the mark while she squirmed, her body unable to hold still. The hand on her waist traveled up to feel the soft skin of Orihime's stomach. It grazed across in circles that had her head spinning before moving to brush against her exposed breast, Ichigo froze when he met no resistance.

Orihime flushed even though she knew it hadn't been her choice. They had cut off her bra along with everything else. Only the thick sweatshirt and careful maneuvering on her part had kept it from being obvious.

She swallowed, lifting the shirt hem with shaky fingers and pulling it over her head like he had.

His breath hissed out, tickling her ear before she was spun around. He captured her lips, leaving his hands free to explore the exposed surface of her back, sliding all the way up to her shoulders and down again, crushing her against his chest. Her blood rushed through her veins, prompting every nerve ending to spark to life.

He traced the curve of her sides, gently brushing the side of breast with his fingers. She gasped as his hand slipped up to test its weight, covering it with a warm palm. A thumb stroked over her hardened nipple and she whined into his mouth.

Ichigo eased her onto the bed, stretching her out and crawling over her, breaking the kiss to nibble down her collarbone then lower to the cleft between her breasts. Orihime gasped when his tongue swept up and over her small pink nipple, gently laving it before closing his mouth over the peak. Her body jerked and her hands found their way into his hair, biting her lip, barely suppressing a moan.

Her body was beginning to ache all the way down to the pulsating heat low in her belly, a dull throb in her sex that made her burn with the need to touch and to be touched, as if someone had started a fire inside her and only he could satisfy it.

Ichigo switched to the other side as she threaded her fingers deeper into his hair, marveling at its softness. His hands glided along her sides, over the curve of her waist to grip her thighs where they had wrapped themselves around his waist. He pushed hard against her and she moaned aloud, forgetting to be quiet.

Her legs flexed again as his fingers hit the sensitive place right below the curve of her backside and she whimpered as he coerced her legs apart, pulling away. His were eyes blazing somewhere between burnished copper and liquid gold as he looked over her, tracing her body with an invisible caress.

Her throat caught as he loosened the tie at her waist and stripped her last clothing away. His hands clenched at his sides and his jaw worked, grinding his back teeth as he dragged in deep breaths. He stayed perfectly still with muscles locked, and Orihime realized he didn't trust himself. She wondered how after all this time, he was still afraid he couldn't keep her safe. It was a fear she didn't share.

She sat up, moving her knees under her so that she could reach his mouth. He didn't resist as she placed a hand on either side of his face, pulling him down, carefully brushing her lips against his. She kissed the tense muscle in his jaw then below his ear. By the time she reached her favorite spot, he was bending into it, breathing hard and trying to drag her closer.

"Orihime…?" There were so many questions in that one word.

She didn't say anything; just let her fingers trail down his chest and stomach causing him to groan softly before she undid the tie. She sat back, watching his shocked reaction with a small amount of pride.

Yelping when her back hit the bed, Orihime caught a flash of gold as she was pressed into the mattress. The rustle of fabric hitting the floor was the only sound that registered, and then he was over her, squeezing her hips and kissing her mouth, neck and breasts. Orihime gasped, striving for purchase on the muscles of his back, feeling them shift and strain under her palms.

Something hard and smooth pressed into her leg, and she jumped as he hissed against the underside of her throbbing breast. Kissing his way down her stomach, Ichigo traced her navel with his tongue before continuing lower. Orihime arched and gasped, panting and fisting her hands in the sheets to keep from accidently tearing out his hair. The soft flutter of fingers at her cleft was the only warning before Ichigo slid a finger inside her and electricity sparked and ignited, flashing behind her closed lids. The muscles of her belly clenched, tightening around him. Her gasp turned into a moan and he kissed her, cutting off the sound that echoed throughout the room.

Orihime writhed, the feelings so intense she couldn't hold still. When he moved the finger inside her again, she felt the moisture coating his hand, but what he was doing felt too good to be embarrassed. Ichigo shuddered above her, still working her gently as she whimpered in time to his movements. Then he moved his hand back, making her whine with the need he left unsatisfied.

He wrapped her legs around his waist, closing his eyes. His brow drawn down in concentration, Ichigo pressed against her entrance. Heat pulsed from her womb, shooting up her spine and down to where he pushed into her.

Orihime repositioned her hips, impatiently urging him forward and he grit his teeth, hands clamping on her waist to hold her still as he slowly impaled her. He hesitated when he reached her barrier. She wiggled at the uncomfortable pressure before he pulled back and plunged forward.

Spots danced across her vision as she choked on air. It stung like a cut, sharp and painful, but it dulled almost immediately, throbbing and aching then twisting into heat and pressure that filled her up. He stiffened, going still, and Orihime could feel what it cost him to stop, not to continue thrusting into her, following his own need.

She reached up to smooth the lines on his forehead and he opened worried eyes.

"You okay?"

Orihime wet her lips and nodded, not sure she'd be able to speak if she tried.

Ichigo let out a breath, dropping his head to the crook of her neck, relieved. She inhaled sharply as he began to move. He pulled out and gave her a long, slow stroke, groaning as her legs contracted and she panted under him.

Orihime watched Ichigo work over her, tensing and stretching. Then he shifted, wrapping an arm around her waist, entering from a different angle and the sensation was so powerful that she released a shocked cry. His hand latched around her mouth at the last second as pleasure washed over her. She knew in that moment, she would never have enough of that feeling.

His gaze flicked back to hers, searching before a smile ghosted across his lips and he slid back in at the same angle. Orihime accidently bit his hand as the same intense thrill spiked through her. He growled low in the back of his throat, waiting for her, doing his best to be gentle even though she could see the darkness gathering in his eyes.

Ichigo drove into her with more force, swallowing her cry with a kiss. She dug nails into his shoulder, bringing him closer. She needed more and there didn't seem to be enough air in the room. Her body was hot and shaky, raging with need and somewhere in her mind, Orihime was sure the whole world had to know what they were doing, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The only thing that mattered was that he didn't stop.

Spiritual pressure poured out of him like water, dark and deep, searing against her skin, driving her mad. She arched into him, dragging hard nipples across his chest as her legs squeezed, helping her keep up with his rhythm. His sounds turned feral as he used one hand splayed across her back to pull her closer and the other to hold them up. Her inner muscles constricted, straining and preparing to shatter.

Orihime ran teeth down the side of his neck and nipped at his collarbone, and his hands turned to steel, holding her at his mercy while he caught her mouth and swallowed her cries. That was the last thing she remembered before everything broke loose and the pleasure became almost unbearable. He was still over her, shaking, gasping as fire pulsed inside her, filling Orihime every time he pushed forward. Then it receded, dropping her back to earth as Ichigo collapsed beside her, wrapping around her and murmuring three small words that left her staring at the ceiling long after he had already fallen asleep.

A/N

Okay, guys. I'm really nervous about this chapter. Did it seem forced or goofy? Was the lemon okay? Did Ichi drop the L-word too soon? Do you feel the overwhelming need to review?

Deep breaths. Alright.

We are getting much closer to the end of this story. Two or three chapters left, at most. A lot will be happening, so mentally prepare :)

Did I mention how much I love you guys?


	21. Chapter 21

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

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**Authorial Notice:**

**Oh, wow… You guys totally blow me away. The response for the last chapter was huge and as much as I wanted to be able to reply to everyone, I've been crazy busy. I'm very sorry! I promise to do better this go around.**

**Last chapter's most asked question: Can we really be close to the end? **

**Answer, Yes. **_**However**_**, because of my severe time crunch, I'm going to break the last chapters down. There will be approximately five medium chapters instead of the three long ones I wanted. This will help me get them posted without the huge wait. But trust me, you'll know when we get to the end.**

**Also, I'd like to send prayers and well wishes to Muise who has gone on temporary hiatus. We love you, Muise, and hope things turn out better than expected. **

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Chapter Twenty-One

Orihime stared out the window beside Ichigo's bed, listening to his breathing as the light through the curtains began to turn pale then sickly grey. The light pitter of rain tapping on the roof filled the room with sound and water ran like teardrops down the glass.

Her thoughts were the same, a dull buzzing in the background of her mind, impossible to stop or tune out. It was strange that her body could feel so relaxed and content while her brain ran riotous circles. But it was true. Curled into Ichigo's side, the sheets felt like silk against her skin and the chill emanating from the cold glass above was held at bay by the soothing warmth that clung to his slumbering form. Even asleep, he looked carelessly graceful. Like a sinuous, lazy predator.

Against her stomach, Ichigo's hand flexed in his sleep, tightening over the curve of her hip before relaxing. It was wrong to stay, wrong to be there when he woke up, because she didn't deserve that kind of intimate moment, but she couldn't move, had only tried once and he had awakened instantly. He was an incredibly light sleeper.

Orihime took a deep breath before releasing it. He smelled so wonderful it hurt, and as much as she wanted to turn her face into his chest and never come up for air, something held her back.

Nothing was turning out like she had thought.

Waking up next to him should have been amazing, like a fairytale, and it _was_... Except, that was all wrong, because fairytales didn't go like this.

Orihime had never read a fairytale that talked about the way the body ached after a night of running or the cold trickle of fear when you weren't sure you could run fast enough. They didn't talk about the way you could feel a person's spirit leaving their body or how it shuddered even after they were already dead. In those stories, the woman left behind didn't try to drink away her memories and the hero didn't wake up from nightmares. He didn't try and fail anyway.

And it was _frustrating_, because Orihime thought she already _knew_ all this. She thought she had learned it a long time ago on the swirling, dust-filled, bloodstained planes of Hueco Mundo. She thought she had learned this the last time she made the decision to leave.

_Stupid_. She was such a stupid child, doing stupid, childish things.

Orihime closed her eyes against the vicious stinging in the back of her nose and pleaded with the tears to go away. She was running out of time, again. Only now, she could feel the bitter tick of each second reverberating in the beat of her own aching heart. She would see it coming head on. She would be the one to sever their bonds with her own hands, because who else would be able to do it?

She had been silly. Trapped in a web of little girl dreams that had no place in the harsh light of reality. Once Ichigo figured that out, figured out the extent of her disloyalty, he would never want to see her again. And how could such a betrayal have turned into the only option?

She winced when he stirred, before pushing her fears aside and if she couldn't work up a smile, at least she could stop feeling sorry for herself. After all, this was about so much more than her happiness alone.

The brush of velvet skin over hard muscle alerted Orihime that he was finally awake as Ichigo stretched beside her. He sat up, flexing his back like a cat before a smile crept over his lips and he looked down at her, dragging a hand through disheveled hair as blankets pooled around his bare waist.

For just a second, the painful beating of her heart stopped altogether.

Orihime swallowed and tried to recall how to breathe.

_Don't… Don't start missing him now... Don't think that things will be different just because you want them to be. _

But even as she was thinking it, she was slipping.

He leaned down and kissed her, fingers splaying across the warm skin of her side, thumb trailing along the edge of her ribcage.

And she was so _sure_ he would know all her filthy, little secrets automatically that she was shocked when he deepened the kiss, turned into something sweet and sensual and slow. When he pulled back, his chest rose and fell slightly faster than when he had started and he smiled again.

Ichigo dropped his head to breathe in the soft skin at her throat. "This is so much better than the way I usually wake up."

Against her will, a giggle worked its way up her chest and tugged at her lips as she remembered his father's unusual wake up call. Orihime inhaled sharply when his teeth slid down her neck, brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves at her pulse point, causing shivers to wrack her frame and heat to pool between her thighs.

Were these really their last moments together?

Orihime ignored it, winding her fingers into his hair before sliding them down the rigid muscles of his back. Those thoughts wouldn't intrude on this moment. She refused to let them steal any more time away from her.

Ichigo kissed along the tender skin at the nape of her neck, feeling her stiffen then relax under his touch.

He smiled at the thought of his overly self-conscious girlfriend before nipping at the marks on her shoulder and dragging his tongue over them. Although… she hadn't exactly been self-conscious last night. Flashes of memory shot through him, palms sliding over delicate skin, the feel of her legs wrapping around him as he slid inside of her.

Ichigo shuddered, kissing her shoulder one last time before pulling back. There was nothing he would like more than to pick up exactly where they had left off, and only the thought of how much embarrassment would be inflicted if they got caught, held him back. He had to get out of the room before the rest of the house woke up, and that wasn't going to happen if she kept looking so dazed or if she didn't stop licking her lips with the tip of a soft pink tongue.

Ichigo groaned and rolled off her, smoothing a hand over his face, urging himself to calm down before he humiliated them both. Damn. His body was already painfully ready. Overhead, the rain picked up, pounding against the rooftop and shrouding them in their own world.

"I love you, too."

"Huh?" Ichigo blinked, completely caught off guard and shocked out of his oblivious concentration.

Orihime's eyes were closed, the soft skin around her nose crinkled and tense. "I just wanted you to know that."

For a second, nothing made sense until he remembered his last words the night before. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head and trying to fight back the heat creeping up his neck.

His mind whirled as he fumbled for a response.

_Damn it, Ichigo… Just say something. Anything_.

She turned her head to look at him and smiled, and he realized that he didn't have to say anything at all. Something small inside of him relaxed. Maybe, it was because she didn't expect anything in return that his chest burned and ached, his heart skipping.

He turned back to look at the ceiling and huffed. "Silly, I already did know that."

He glanced back at her silence, and chuckled at her wide eyes and slightly open mouth, feeling like the world had finally slipped into place. Nothing could make this better. When everything with the yokai was over, when they got back, he was going to find a way to spend more time with her. Save up some money, then after high school, maybe…

He sighed, shaking his head, earning a curious glance from beside him.

He was getting way ahead of himself, there were so many things that had to come first. Like graduating and at least one real date, for starters, preferably one that didn't include any sort of near death experiences.

With one last kiss, he slipped from the bed, locating his clothes and throwing them on, surprised he didn't even feel slightly abashed to have Orihime's eyes on him. It was a strange sensation, but honestly, after everything, it wasn't even the most vulnerable thing she had witnessed by far. She had seen him as a monster, she had seen him afraid, she had seen him _lose…_ but never once had she turned him away. Never once had she made him feel like _less_, and he realized, she never would.

He stared at the forgotten shirt in his hands.

_Too much_. She was just too much for someone like him. Nothing he had ever done could have been deserving of someone like her. It was almost frightening. As if, any second, whoever was running things might discover their mistake and take her back.

He really was in love with her, not just a passing infatuation or a crush or anything stupid like that. This was real, and it was enough to make his legs give out every time he thought about it. He pulled his shirt over his head and turned back.

"You need something else to wear?"

Orihime blinked, her head jerking up from where his torso had disappeared under the shirt. "N-No. Yoruichi went by my apartment after—" She looked away. "She went by my apartment last night."

Ichigo studied her face for a few seconds before nodding. "See you downstairs, then."

Moving the chair from in front of the door, Ichigo peeked into the hallway before glancing at Orihime over his shoulder. She was still looking at his desk, and in the back of his mind, something stirred and woke, running cold fingers like claws down his spine.

()()()

In the underground training facility beneath the Urahara Shouten, the assembled mass of shinigami, humans, and a single quincy, stood watching as the gate that would take them to the yokai birthing grounds flashed to life in a brilliant display of blue and white.

Orihime brushed her fingertips over the small container in her pocket before pulling them back, curling nails into her palm. The space between the pillars of the gate swirled into a vortex, dark purple joining the other colors. She closed her eyes briefly then opened them back to where Urahara and Tessai were finishing their work.

The air stirred and Ichigo stepped up beside her, Zangetsu strapped to his back and the heavy edges of his shihakushou brushing her arm. She could feel him studying her profile and didn't need to look to know he was scowling, his lips pressed together tightly. But she couldn't waiver, couldn't turn to look, because she was afraid of crumbling.

His voice was quiet when he spoke, only meant for her ears. "Are you ready?"

_No_.

That was and wasn't the answer, because that wasn't what he was really asking. She could hear the words under his words. _Are you sure?_

It had been a long time since she had felt certain about anything. And the problems kept mounting, piling up and surrounding her until she couldn't see around them anymore. Orihime was hit with the image of Ichigo hugging his sisters before they left to stay with friends. Their worried looks, the brave faces they wore as he had shrugged off their concerns with a few flippant comments, but Orihime knew firsthand what that kind of bravery cost.

The gateway flexed and flashed, the light painful to look at.

She almost regretted that she had never learned any kido or attempted to know anything beyond the surface. Gestures and words. That was all it took for them to twist the world into what was desired. But there was no power at all that could change the direction of the path Orihime was walking. She had made her decision and she wouldn't take it back, wasn't supposed to _want_ to, so she simply nodded.

Ichigo sighed and turned to watch as the flashing stopped, and the space between the pillars solidified into a tunnel.

Ever since she had awoken that morning, cradled against his side, Orihime had felt something building inside her. A weight lacing her chest that hadn't been there before. She felt old. Maybe even bitter somewhere deep inside, although, she wouldn't acknowledge that. Not until she was back home, lying in bed, then she could pull out the past and haunt herself with it. Then she could be weak, but not now.

After all, sometimes bitterness and wisdom looked a lot alike.

She straightened her shoulders and worked to stop the trembling that threatened to break out over her body. This wasn't the easy thing, but it was the _right_ thing.

Rangiku stood a few yards ahead as the last of the instructions were given and Orihime stepped up behind her, following Urahara and Yoruichi into the tunnel.

Ichigo watched Orihime's stiff back, her jerky movements as she kept pace with the taller shinigami.

He was missing something. She didn't seem like herself. Was it possible that she was regretting what they had done? He took a deep breath and ran the thought around his head, but it came back sounding hollow. No, she was probably worried about the girl. Of course, she was. Orihime wasn't selfish enough to be thinking about them now.

Not like him.

He suppressed a groan and clenched his hands to keep them at his sides. He had no idea why the thought of her quiet and withdrawn was bothering him so much, why it was making him so damn insecure. He was like that all the time and she always gave him space. So why was it so hard for him to do the same?

"You seem upset."

Ichigo tilted his head to see that his father had come up beside him. He pressed his lips together, in no mood to be harassed. Then something occurred to him as the green and white stripes of Kisuke's hat bobbed in the dim light.

"Do you know what Urahara said to Orihime last night?" He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice, but suspected he had failed when his father lips quirked. Ichigo huffed. "Never mind, forget it."

"You sure that's what's worrying her?"

"Of course, I—" He stopped, realizing that not only had he just admitted that she was worried, but that it was bothering him. It was really starting to make painful sense why his dad and Urahara got along so well. Ichigo glared at Isshin's poorly disguised smile, but even he could see that it lacked its usual enthusiasm.

Ahead of him, Orihime was deflecting Rukia's attempts to lighten her mood and the wrongness of that cut into his gut, filling it with cold anticipation. He kept waiting for her to turn her head and look back. He kept waiting for her to meet his eyes over her shoulder, but she never did. Just kept walking, marching down the dark, damp path, eyes straight ahead.

This wasn't anytime to be playing games with his father. All he could do was be direct and hope his old man was willing to do the same.

"Did he say he wouldn't train her, again?"

His father was silent for a long second. "Would that be such a bad thing? She doesn't seem like the type for violence."

"Are you forgetting that she broke your nose?" Ichigo sighed, ignoring the stammering protests beside him. "I don't want her to fight, not really… But he could at least teach her to defend herself."

"If you really feel that way, then why haven't you tried to teach her?"

Ichigo felt the tip of his toe catch on a rock and he stumbled before he could stop himself. "T-That's…"

"It's because you already know that defending alone isn't enough. If she walked into a fight thinking she could win by only defending, it would be a death sentence. That's why there are people like us, Ichigo." Isshin drew a long breath, waiting so long to speak that Ichigo wondered if he would. "Until she has a reason, something she would be willing to take a life for, it would be stupidly dangerous. Besides…" He frowned. "You went through Kisuke's training; you really want him to—"

"No."

Isshin chuckled then sobered just as quickly. "Get your head in the right place, Ichigo. Don't let yourself be distracted… Really, son, everyone knows you aren't supposed to fool around before a battle."

"You…?" Ichigo was dimly aware that his mouth had fallen open. "It's not… I mean, it wasn't…"

"Was it supposed to be a secret? I don't know how anyone could not know, what with all that noise—"

"That's enough!" He kept his voice low, looking around before hissing between his teeth. "Just shut up already."

Isshin snorted then shrugged. "It should go without saying that if you're old enough to save the world and die a couple times, then you're old enough to decide when to have sex."

"God, stop saying it!"

Ichigo shoved a hand into his hair, trying not to accidently rip out his bangs. Great. Fantastic. This was exactly what he needed right now.

"Hey."

He groaned. "What else?"

"We're getting close."

Ichigo blinked, glancing forward to confirm that Isshin was right. The tunnel ended abruptly and the whisper of swords being drawn resounded in the confined space. He located Inoue easily, making his way to her side before drawing his own zanpaktou from his back. There was a pause as glances were exchanged and they prepared themselves. Then one after another, they were pouring out, moving quickly into the night outside.

When Orihime made to move forward, Ichigo slid his hand around her arm, pulling her back. "Find somewhere safe, okay?"

She looked surprised, but covered it with a nod. He hesitated one last time before turning and taking off out of the gate, carful to keep her close.

Nothing could be seen past the tunnel's mouth, but as soon as they crossed it, everything came into focus. He drew up short, but so had everyone else.

The kumiho birthing grounds were immense. Pine needles and springy moss sunk under his feet as if the entire forest floor were covered in plush carpet. It was an _old_ wood. The kind better suited to a movie or a storybook. In the center of a clearing, a hundred yards away, disjointed stone pillars wandered like giants over a smooth, obsidian surface. An expanse of volcanic glass, ancient and broken around the edges. He could still see where it had come down the mountain, now it was still, like a frozen black waterfall.

The place was a fortress, or it had been at one time. Some of the walls and ceilings still stood, but that wasn't what caught Ichigo's attention.

There was no light from overhead. Not even moonlight filtered in between the branches of trees that rose like skyscrapers out of the earth around them. Instead, the forest was lit by flowers, hundreds of small white blossoms that grew from rocky crevices and in between tree roots. They glowed like fireflies in the darkness, like tiny stars, illuminating the wood and everyone in it.

"This is weird." Rukia came up beside him, the tip of Sode no Shirayuki pointed at the ground. "Where are they?"

A piercing shriek tore through the silent wood, was picked up and answered by a dozen others.

"Well, I'd imagine," Kisuke said, "that would be the yokai right there."

Something whirled through the air, over their heads, almost too dark to see.

Before he had time to think, before he knew what he was doing, his sword arm flashed out, cleanly severing through the neck of a winged snake. It landed beside where Inoue stood, startled, staring at a clawed wing that had been inches from her face. Another slice and the wing fell.

Her eyes met his, but before anything could be said, the demons came.

They sprung from the trees and out of the darkness in hoards, and there was nothing to do but turn and fight. Some of the yokai were hideous and some were beautiful, but all of them were lethal. They fought viciously. Not bothering to attack one on one, the demons fell on them in droves.

Ichigo moved, spinning Orihime behind him, between his back and Rukia's, then he struck. He reacted on instinct, having no time to think up any sort of strategy, he simply hacked away at them as they came, one after another. It was an eerie feeling to cut so much living flesh. He was used to fighting hollows that dissolved easily, but this wasn't anything like that. These enemies weren't dead things, they were alive, and it made his skin crawl to feel his sword separating tendons and hitting bone.

A quincy arrow flared in an arch, striking a yokai overhead and Ichigo glimpsed a flutter of white before it disappeared into the ensuing din of chaos between Ikkaku and Yumichika. He couldn't see where Chad had gone at all, but he thought he could hear him calling out an intermittent attack. It was more of a brawl than a battle. One moment, he was countering a wicked set of claws, the next his opponent fell, struck by the corpse of another yokai thrown by a grinning Kenpachi. Ichigo didn't pause long enough to be unnerved by how much he was obviously enjoying the fight as another enemy came, but he was sure the image was going to stick.

The new yokai went down easily and he was on to another. There didn't seem to be an end. Occasionally, he would see flashes of gold behind him, but mostly it was Inoue's healing abilities, because he made damn sure nothing got past. Rukia cried out from somewhere to his left and in the time it took to glance over his shoulder, something sharp tore into his side. He cursed, Zangetsu whipping up and around, its heavy weight cleaving into its skull.

It was as he turned back that Ichigo saw Ichimaru standing at the entrance to the crumbling stone fortress, casually leaning against a column. Gin's grin widened as their eyes met before he turned and walked, unhurried, into the ruins.

Ichigo grit his teeth, vision blurring and a snarl working out of his mouth before he was even aware of it. Rage boiled in his chest, flashes of Inoue unconscious and bloodied flashing through his head. He didn't have to command his feet, they carried him on their own, bringing him to where Gin had stood with no memory of passing through the battle.

()()()

**A/N**

**You know what? I'm still so happy about the reviews I got from the last chapter, that I'm not even going to bother you with my annoying begging this time. Awesome, huh?**

**You guys are the best!**


	22. Chapter 22

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

Authorial Notice:

Nope, can't think of anything.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Orihime ducked behind a tree, covering her head and narrowly dodging splitters of bark as it shattered above her. She had never seen a fight like this. There were no rules or protocol involved, just two forces hacking away at each other, using whatever means available. It was… shocking, nerve-wracking, terrifying.

Heart pounding in her chest, she shook the wood from her hair, scanning for danger around the tree's trunk before climbing back onto unsteady legs and following after Ichigo. It was sheer luck that Orihime had been watching him when he turned and left, because it had all happened so fast and without preamble. He had been there, and then he wasn't. And if she hadn't been looking, she would have missed the dark flash in his eyes; the way his movements became sleek and predatory.

The hollow had been so close to the surface for so long, she had stopped noticing every small tick in Ichigo's behavior that should have been a dead giveaway. But this had been blatant. Either the hollow had stopped caring if he was noticed or he was so infuriated that he didn't care.

_Urahara-san was right…_

It wasn't surprising. He almost always was, but it hurt anyway. Deep inside she had still been harboring some sort of hope that _this_ time, if only just once, he would have gotten it wrong. Now that was shattered, along with all those dreams she had.

_This is going to end badly._

The stone remnants were on the other side of a fifty-foot clearing. Running would be the only way to avoid being seen by the attacking demons, but it might also catch their attention. And the last thing she wanted was to come face to face with one. Especially, if that meant fighting or killing, because she wasn't sure she could take a life that wasn't already, technically dead.

Hedging around the edges of the battle, Orihime moved as quickly as she could while dodging any stray yokai and friendly fire. It took a long time and she paused upon reaching the end of the tree line.

Taking one last breath and sending up a hasty prayer, she shot out of the brush, not hesitating or looking back as she ran flat out. It only took a few seconds to get there and she dropped behind the closest pillar, sliding down and fighting to catch her breath. After a long second to calm her frantic heart, Orihime moved again, eager to find Ichigo and make sure she was close enough to do what she needed to do.

Sounds of striking swords and yelling faded the further she moved into the ruins, following the insistent tug of Ichigo's spiritual pressure.

The little luminous flowers from the forest grew up the busted walls and pillars. Vines crept over rubble and glass floor alike, the forest reclaiming its place. The glow was faint, yet still enough to light her path. She wondered briefly if they would survive if she tried taking some back, or if they would wither away if taken from the forest's magic.

Orihime felt like a ghost, moving through the ageless, shadow-filled passages. Her shoulder blades tingled with nervousness as if expecting a knife to come flying from the dark, striking where she was vulnerable, but no knife came and she pressed on. It was hard to believe how far away he had gotten. Orihime felt like she had walked miles before she again heard the sounds of fighting echoing off the walls around her.

Picking up her step, she stumbled through an archway and into a room that still had some of its ceiling.

That was where she found them. Neither appeared to notice her and she quickly ducked back into the shadows, covering her mouth to stifle her sharp inhale. Both of the fighters were bleeding, Ichigo having already released his bankai and Gin smiling his uncanny smile from the other side of the room.

Seeing the blood soaking Ichigo's shihakushou, Orihime's hands itched to make the motions that accompanied her powers, but she didn't move. Nothing that would give her away.

They were speaking, talking about something. Orihime couldn't hear their words, sounds echoed and bounced in strange ways in the large room, making the clang of swords piercing and the rumble of masculine voices indistinguishable. But whatever it was, their auras were flaring angrily, pulling up rubble from the ground and crushing it before her eyes. Only the fact that Orihime had experienced this before, and that she had a firm grip on the wall at her back kept her on her feet.

Someone grabbed her from behind.

Orihime screamed as a hand reached up, clamping over her mouth and preventing the sound from traveling any further. She jerked, preparing to kick and struggle, but the voice over her ear stopped her.

As she went still, the hand dropped away from her mouth.

"Rangiku?"

The taller woman nodded before looking over Orihime's shoulder, voice barely above a whisper. "What's happening?"

"I don't know. They've been fighting and talking, but I can't hear anything, can you?"

Rangiku stared hard at the figures across the room before growling. "If they would just hold still, I could make some of it out…"

Her eyes narrowed and Orihime held very still.

"You can read lips?"

"Of course, it's an important social skill." She spoke in her normal blithe tone, but Orihime could tell her false cheer was on autopilot.

"What are they saying?"

"It's hard to make out. Ichigo asked something and Gin's avoiding the question. No big surprise there…"

"Rangiku?"

She didn't answer, instead waving a hand for Orihime to be silent. Orihime held her breath until she thought she would scream in frustration.

"Rangiku, what are they _saying_?"

"He…" She swallowed, choking on the words before shaking her head. "I'm sorry… but please stay here, Orihime."

She blinked. "W-What? Wait…!"

Rangiku stood and walked forward, no longer concerned with being seen. Ichimaru looked startled before he pushed away from Ichigo and landed a ways back. But from the second she had entered the field, Gin's eyes didn't leave her. Or at least, Orihime thought. Sometimes it was hard to tell where he was looking.

Rangiku spoke to Ichigo without turning to face him and if Orihime had ever been tempted to curse, it was then, because she _still_ couldn't hear what was said.

She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat as Ichigo hesitated, responded, and then whirled, taking off through a gap in the broken wall behind him. Sighing, Orihime closed her eyes for a moment. He always made everything look easy, whereas she would have to _creep_ all the way over to the far wall, carefully, and most likely, slowly.

With one last sigh, she made her way out of her hiding place, picking her way along the rubble. At least Ichigo seemed to have calmed down from earlier. She didn't want to think about how things could have turned out if the hollow had decided to come out fully. It probably would have been unpleasant.

Rangiku stood across the hall with her sword held in a defensive position, even though Gin had yet to move. _And of course_, now that she shouldn't be hearing the private conversation, she could.

Orihime tried not to listen, but some of the things being said were so shocking, she caught herself trying to follow it anyway. It was cryptic, though. Most of it, things she couldn't understand. Something about his soul… Rangiku was too quiet to hear, but she asked him something else and he laughed.

Almost to the broken wall, Orihime hesitated as his voice became clearer.

"Don't tell me you never wondered where I was, where I went to all those times." He tilted his head, red eyes shining beneath lashes and gleaming with mischief. "I know ya did."

"You were with Aizen, and you didn't answer me. For once, just give me a straight answer."

Orihime could hear the emotion in the woman's voice, the raw strain, and she felt terribly invasive. She shouldn't listen. The exit was close enough to make a run for it…

"'Course I did, I'm telling ya. That's where. You think a kid off the street just picks up a sword and kills a third seat? Come on, Ran, you're smarter than that."

"That… You're lying. I would have known, I would have been able to tell." Her voice cracked at the end, but when she spoke again, it was steady. "Are you saying… you sold your soul that long ago?"

Orihime gasped and it echoed through the silence as she ducked behind a pile of debris.

Gin sighed. "I already know you're there, ya know. Just hurry up and go after him already."

Orihime's face flushed as she stood, slowly coming out from behind the crumbled stones. He waved her off, pointing toward the place Ichigo had left. Rangiku was still watching Ichimaru and Orihime bit her tongue to keep from asking her if she needed help, already knowing the answer.

With one last glance, she turned, once again heading after Ichigo.

()()()

Ichigo raced through the ruin's disintegrating halls, vaulting over a ridge of fallen stone. If he could just find that purple-haired guy, everything would be over. That was all he let his mind focus on as he ran.

Gin wasn't by nature a trustable person, but in this, Ichigo had been strangely certain he was telling the truth. Their conversation resonated through his thoughts, both distracting and centering his objective. He had been ready to kill the ex-captain, to finish everything with the man, no matter how it came out. Now?

He almost felt sorry for the guy. Selling his soul for a pipe dream, for a chance to be good enough to take revenge on Aizen. It was a desperate act. It made Ichigo wonder what had been between them.

The back of his mind tickled with unease at the idea that he had left Rangiku alone with him, but as Gin's oldest friend, Ichigo trusted her judgment where he was concerned. And he hadn't had much choice in the end. Ichimaru had made that very clear, even if he had been less than forthcoming with the rest of the details. Whatever was happening was happening _now_. Ichigo's only option was to kill Tusan quickly or face him as a god.

And now that he was looking for it, Ichigo could actually feel the flux of power in the air when he pushed everything else out of his mind. The build of energy that was like and unlike, spiritual pressure. Except this felt more liquid, as if everything around him were pooling forward, moving toward something larger, but he didn't let himself stop or slow down. It didn't matter that the hair on the back of his neck was practically on end, or that all of his instincts were telling him to turn around and go the other way. He had made a promise.

He had promised Orihime that nothing would happen to Yuri, and he was struggling to recall what he had been thinking, because _of course_ it wasn't something he could guarantee, but all he could remember was that she had been crying and he would have said anything to stop the pain welling in her eyes.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to follow his father's advice and push thoughts of Orihime from the front of his mind. It was too difficult to think of her and of killing Tusan at the same time. They didn't belong together. His mind automatically rebelled, settling for soothing images of her instead of the battle ahead and that was dangerous.

Ichigo tightened his hold on Zangetsu as orange light began to fill the darkness and the pathway, at last, opened up. Bright light hit him square in the face and Ichigo brought a hand up to cover his eyes, squinting against the glare. When he could see again, his eyes snapped open in shock regardless of the pain.

One tall figure stood beside a large stone slab, arms outstretched speaking a language Ichigo didn't know. No less than six demons circled him, each one standing at one point of three intersecting lines, chanting. But as they spoke, their words became visible, winding and twisting through the air like leaves on the wind. They glowed, like the star shaped flowers, illuminating the chamber and its occupants before converging on the central figure.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

That one had to be Tusan. He was definitely in charge.

On the stone dais, lay Yuri. Sutras covered the surface, some stuck to her, some tied into the ropes that held her. Her eyes were closed and she looked unconscious, but he could see the stain of red from where she had struggled with her bonds. It was absolutely disgusting.

Something about the idea of harming family had always infuriated him. And if he squinted or kept her in his peripheral Yuri looked a lot like Yuzu. It was enough to piss him right the hell off. Ichigo took hold of Zangetsu with both hands and with a shout, released a wave of energy that shook the very foundations of the ruins.

He aimed high, letting it graze over their heads as his only warning before he launched forward. The chanters scattered, making no move to fight, and he let them, concentrating on the man that had yet to turn toward him.

Ichigo cursed as he got close, realizing that his opponent had no intention of moving, and that he was about to cut him down from behind. He drew up at the last second, preparing to sidestep and slice from the left when suddenly he was looking into flashing, red eyes and rows of razor-sharp, dripping, drool-covered jowls.

Ichigo jerked back and barely avoided those jaws snapping his nose off. He stumbled, not comprehending what his eyes were telling him. Tusan was gone and in his place was a monster. Claws raked across his chest, searing as they caught and tore flesh. For a moment, the pain was so intense that his vision blurred.

Shit.

_Shit_.

He needed to get some distance.

Even as he thought it, he was moving, flash-stepping away faster than even that _thing_ could follow. Dirt slid under his feet as he skidded to a stop, flinging an arm out to keep his balance.

Unnerved, he tried to look at the creature objectively.

Fur covered skin, snout protruding in the center of its face, his blood dripping from elongated claws; it was yokai, and if Ichigo tried, he could make out the vague outline of a person in its shape and in the lengths of deep purple hair.

What the hell happened to him? Was this the ritual they were performing?

Ichigo couldn't imagine a person actually _desiring_ a form like that, but as he watched, it dissolved, melting into a more human figure with piercing blood-red eyes. When it made no move to come at him again, Ichigo straightened to his full height.

"Looks like your help ran away."

"They fulfilled their purpose."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

Everything about this guy was rubbing him the wrong way. He had just dismissed his own followers easily, as if he could care less what happened to them, so long as they weren't useful. "You're Tusan?"

"I am Lord Tusan."

He didn't bridle at the correction, only watched the other man closely for any signs of sudden movement, ignoring the stinging in his chest.

"And you're the one that took Yuri? And Ichimaru's soul?"

The lord gestured at the girl on the table behind him. "As you can see."

"Any chance you want to give them back and call off this god thing?"

For the first time, a faint smile twisted the man's mouth. "None."

Ichigo's hold on his sword tightened. It had been worth a try. One of these days, that was going to work.

He flashed, angling in from the side to keep the stone alter and its occupant out of the line of fire. He swept Tensa Zangetsu up, preparing to free another wave of dark pressure, but when he looked, no one was there. Ichigo skidded to a stop, wary.

He frowned.

"Are you truly here to stop me?"

The voice came from behind him and Ichigo cursed as he spun, frustrated that the man had gotten behind him so easily, even with his bankai released. He responded on a breath. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Once again, Tusan didn't move and his stillness was beginning to grate along Ichigo's nerves. He shot forward, half expecting the man not to move. Except he did. Faster than Ichigo could follow, he whipped his own sword free of its sheath, slashing down to parry before jerking the hilt up and into Ichigo's gut.

Coughing, Ichigo lurched back, moving out of reach. What the _hell?_ The man was like what Ichigo imagined a cross between Kenpachi and Byakuya would be like, and that concept was just _disturbing_.

"True enough, but your actions contradict your words. You say you desire to stop me. In that case, your safest option would be to kill the girl. Without her, I cannot possibly fulfill my desire. You put yourself at a disadvantage trying to avoid striking her direction. Why? She couldn't possibly mean anything to you."

Spitting out blood, Ichigo glared, wiping his mouth with his free hand. "What are you talking about?"

"Humans do everything backward."

"And you bad guys always talk too damn much."

Ichigo attacked, putting speed into his movements, striking viciously… at nothing. He blinked, whirling around and jumping away, searching. There. Ichigo slid to a stop, preparing another offensive. What was it with this bastard? One instant he was there, the next he wasn't. Ichigo hadn't even blinked the last time; he was just that _fast_.

"That option is your only hope. I have thousands of years on you, child. There is no chance you will be victorious. You will die one way or another. The best you could achieve would be to steal my aspiration. If you're unwilling to do so, then why are you here?"

Did this guy _want_ him to kill the girl? How sick was that? "That question's getting old."

"You have yet to answer it."

Ichigo frowned and hesitated, staring hard at the other man. "I made a promise and I'm going to keep it."

Tusan's eyes shaded to a lighter color.

"An honest answer, at last." He lowered his weapon, giving Ichigo the same speculative glance. "You think me evil, don't you? That I would sacrifice for power, but is it any different from what you've done. I can smell the humanity on you and still you wield the power of a shinigami. That which you hold is unnatural, yet you possess it anyway. Gain strength at any cost, it's the way of all who want to protect what they cherish."

Ichigo could feel his back teeth grinding, and as much as he tried to stop the words, they spilled out anyway. "You think I'm the one who's backward? Real strength ain't got shit to do with power. You're not protecting anything but yourself."

"Poor child… You believe so hard, but you believe in a lie." Without moving, he gave the impression that he had changed his stance. "Come, I will show you the difference."

Then, he was there, closing the space between them faster than Ichigo could leap away, leaving him to stare at the oncoming edge of a blade, gleaming and headed toward his face. He brought up Zangetsu.

…_Too late._

There was no way to avoid it.

Gold, bright and unyielding, solidified in front of him, deflecting the blow before it was even fully formed. The blade scraped harshly over the surface. Tusan's head snapped to the side, but so did Ichigo's.

Orihime stood in the entrance, ragged and out of breath, but determined. But Ichigo only recognized one thing. She was safe. He felt his heart swell fiercely in his chest at the sight of her, his insides trying to claw their way out. Her eyes met his for the barest of seconds before sliding to the other man as the world started again.

Ichigo froze as Tusan shifted, and his elation shattered and replaced with the sharp edges of fear. She had sent out her shield, leaving herself defenseless. Tusan was already moving, already a step ahead… and a step was too much. Ichigo wasn't sure if anger or fear pushed him, but he _moved_, raising a hand to flick his mask into place, but it was already forming on its own and it was _barely_ enough.

He made a wide, horizontal slash, cutting into Tusan's side and forcing him to dodge back. Ichigo spun, placing himself firmly in front of Inoue as a snarl worked its way free of his throat. Her shield dissolved as he relocated, flowing around him and back to her.

He heard her still trying to regain her breath and had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder. Why was she here? And why alone? What the hell was she thinking?

There was so much anger flooding his chest he wasn't sure who to direct it at, her for being there or that stupid fuck that attacked her. He could feel his eyes burning behind the mask, the fingers at his side flexing into claws.

"You must be Inoue Orihime. Yuri said quite a bit about you when she was questioned."

Orihime made a choking sound and Ichigo's temper snapped. He sprung, travelling forward to strike, forcing the battle from the circle and Orihime. When they were far enough away, he stopped holding back.

Orihime watched the fight unfold with tightly clenched fists, wishing she could do more than stand uselessly to the side as Ichigo grappled for the upper hand. He was pushing the demon back by force of will alone, but still, it wasn't going well. His riatsu was fluctuating wildly, rising and falling, flickering like the blades of a helicopter.

She subconsciously took a step forward as Tusan slashed the claws of his free hand across Ichigo's shoulder. He was struggling, shifting between hollow and substitute.

"Ori...hime"

Her head twisted around to look at the girl lying bound to the table. How could she have forgotten?

Red flickered under barely open lids and she found herself rushing forward.

"Yuri!"

She paused as she neared the heavy ropes securing the table's captive, each littered with paper tags displaying thick kanji Orihime had never seen.

"You have to… take them off."

Yuri was wheezing just speaking a few words and Orihime hurried to comply, reaching for the first paper tag, bracing for anything. Nothing happened, the tag came loose as easily as a post it note. She blinked.

Below her Yuri made an unpleasant noise that only _just_ sounded like a chuckle. "They're for me. They won't hurt you, stupid."

"Oh." She held it up. "Oh!"

Orihime ripped paper after paper away, throwing them to the ground. There were hundreds, but they dropped quickly, and as they did the girl under them began to breathe more naturally. Just a few more…

"Orihime!"

Jerking her head up, she tried to process what was happening. It was a blast of energy, sickly green in color and it was closing in fast, eating up the ground in front of it as it grew.

Her mind progressed in slow motion, seeing the danger, then remembering the girl still tied to the stone slab. Her body moved on its own, one hand extending to form her shield as she threw herself over the smaller defenseless form, preparing for the inevitable impact and the pain that was sure to follow.

Her shield snapped up, but she had already seen the size of what was approaching.

Orihime waited, except it didn't come.

She lifted her head, slowly peeking over folded arms.

Ichigo was standing over them, blocking and diverting the blast with Zangetsu and raw riatsu. Energy flowed in streaming waves of light to either side like an aurora. His coat flared back, whipping and snapping as he leaned into the blast. His feet slid over the stone floor, but she could already tell the force was diminishing, less than half of what it had been.

Orihime exhaled as it subsided, opening her mouth to thank him and stopped as something warm fell to the table and splashed her arms with tiny red droplets. She blinked, following the drips up to where they fell from the tip of a blade protruding from Ichigo's back just under his heart.

_Blood…?_

His mask crumbled and he fell, the blade sliding free.

"Ichigo!"

She didn't know how she got to him. He was yelling at her to stay back, she remembered that later, remembered later that Tusan was standing over him, but in that second, nothing registered beyond Ichigo needing her.

She caught his head before it hit the ground, cradling it against her lap as his body shuddered from the severity of the heart wound. This was her fault. She should have been paying attention. She should have _known_… The gleaming red tip of a sword entered her peripheral vision, but she didn't turn or look up. She called her powers and it moved away as her healing shield came into place.

Ichigo's eyes brushed over her face before diming and closing as she stroked hair off his forehead, trying her hardest to hold back tears.

Orihime gasped and jerked her head around as Tusan's words registered, his sword poised over Yuri's throat.

"Come now, dear little sister, blood of my blood, today we become god."

Then the blade fell and the world was filled with crimson.

()()()

A/N

Ack, so much action… I promise, if it was up to me all Ichigo and Orihime would do is make-out :) Does that not sound like the best manga chapter ever? Why, Kubo Tite, why must you tease us?

One more chapter down and way ahead of schedule! Who loves you guys? So here's my question. If… _if,_ I can get a chapter out every week, would that give you guys enough time to read them? I just ask because I'm so freakin excited about the next chapter that I don't know if I'll be able to wait, but I will do my best!

You have to tell me if you've already guessed whats going to happen! I don't want to be predictable, but some of you are really observant...

Please remember to leave all love in the form of a review!


	23. Chapter 23

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

**Authorial Notice:**

**Way early, yes? Yes! So much happens this chapter that I'm caught between being excited and nervous. But I think this chapter should make quite a few of you happy :) Get ready to squeal hollow fangirls…**

()()()

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ichigo sat up, automatically grasping for the wound in his chest. The recollection of being pierced echoed in his memory, but he found nothing. The cut wasn't there. Above him, thunder sounded and light flashed across the darkened sky, and his first instinct was to search for Orihime before he realized exactly where he was.

Ichigo frowned.

Why the hell was it dark? It had never been night in his inner world before.

Another blaze of lightning illuminated the sideways cityscape, reflecting against glass windowpanes like thousands of tiny, upside-down flash bulbs. Buildings flickered blindingly into sight before slowly fading away again as a low rumbling shook the foundations beneath him. His hollow lounged carelessly against the side of a ledge, head tilted back, watching the tempest above.

Ichigo grit his teeth. If that bastard wanted a fight—

"None of that this time." Golden eyes fell to where Ichigo still lay on the ground. "It's over, you know."

Ichigo blinked, trying to hold back his shock at having his thoughts invaded. Usually, he could keep them from his darker half if he concentrated, and Ichigo always made the extra effort when they came face to face, but just now...

_Something's wrong_.

The hollow snorted and Ichigo's brow creased in aggravation.

"What do you want? In case you forgot, I was kind of busy."

"Busy what? Dying?" It tsk'ed him, shaking his head before pushing away from the wall, white shihakushou whipping around a lean frame. "You still don't get it, do you? I said, it's over... I _win_."

Ichigo narrowed his gaze before climbing to his feet, keeping his eyes locked on his white haired counterpart. He was so sick of these games, so sick of all of it. He just wanted a normal psyche, one that didn't try to kill everything in sight whenever Ichigo's back was turned. If the bastard wanted dominion over their soul so badly, he'd have to take it. Something he knew the hollow was all too happy to do, except he hadn't _moved_.

Ichigo frowned. "Well?"

The hollow watched him, yellow gaze strangely empty. "You haven't even noticed, have you?"

He held up his hand and Tensa Zangetsu's sleek black blade caught the light, glinting ebony against the darkness.

"That's…" Ichigo clenched empty fists, forcing his mind to retrace every encounter they'd had in the past months. There was no way the white bastard should have _his_ sword. "Zangetsu sealed you, I saw the chains. Why do you have that?"

"I _told_ you, he and I are the same. You think I could be crushed by a part of myself? Zangetsu alone can't keep me down." Something flickered in his eyes, something akin to disgust. It was the first emotion Ichigo had seen and the ugliness of it twisted his gut. "You on the other hand, you didn't even put up a fucking fight."

The blow made Ichigo's head snap to the side, eyes widening because he hadn't even seen it coming. There was a tug in his gut; a wrenching just behind his navel and something gave. White, hot knives slit his stomach, carving out his insides and all his strength poured from his body, all his power, his energy fading until he collapsed. Ichigo's arms trembled with the effort to keep his body off the ground and his fingers…

_What…?_

They were fading, becoming transparent.

The hollow stabbed the black blade into the ground beside his head, but he didn't have hands anymore to try to take it. His pieces were flowing away, being whisked into the blade. The first stirrings of dread tickled his chest and he understood what he should have known all along.

"You were never sealed at all... You—" He swallowed, throat dry. "It was all an act."

The hollow's smile was brutal, showing all his teeth, but even then, Ichigo could see that it was forced. It wasn't getting as much enjoyment from the supposed victory as he wanted. Satisfaction bloomed in Ichigo's twisting gut as he glared up, feeling warm liquid drip at the corner of his mouth, arms still shaking as they faded.

His hollow snarled, flicking traces of blood from his fingers. "You still got nothing? Pathetic. Fucking rot in here, then."

And he was gone, blinking out of sight, leaving Ichigo to scream at the sky as he realized the extent of what had occurred.

()()()

This was all her fault.

If she just hadn't been so _slow or weak or stupid…_ then Ichigo wouldn't be bleeding to death and Yuri—

Her eyes were wide, unwilling to leave the sight of the blood pouring down the edge of the table, even though she so desperately wanted to close them. But that wouldn't change anything, it couldn't undo what had been done.

It was her fault.

She bent under the weight of her own guilt as stones piled on her shoulders, giant boulders so heavy they were pressing her down, making it hard to breath. Too much. Too heavy for one person alone, and she _was_ alone.

Nausea speared through her, cutting a hostile path inside her belly. It wrenched her stomach and burned up her throat, but her teeth were clamped tightly.

Orihime's eyes fell to the orange head cradled in her lap and she counted her own irregular heartbeats, brittle, ready to shatter, before gently easing him down. Most of the bleeding had stopped. He would be alright for a few minutes, but Yuri…

She stood.

Tusan had fallen to the floor on the other side of the dais, gasping and panting, glowing as otherworldly lights circled his body, pushing past flesh and forcing their way inside. He screamed then, he screamed like Orihime had never heard anyone scream. The colors of the lights shifted, just under the surface of his skin and he began clawing at them, tearing off his own flesh.

She should have been sickened, horrified, he was ripping himself apart, but there was nothing. Her thoughts had gone so far away she couldn't seem to hear them anymore.

Orihime turned back to the girl on the table.

The cold was spreading into her limbs, a hollowness that seemed to swallow her from the inside out. A million pinpricks pricked, a million pressure points pressed. Everything that had happened in the last few months crowded her head, but there was too much static to pick through. She felt nothing except the indisputable weight of her own blame.

It was curious, she knew there should be other emotions there, yet they never came.

Orihime was just empty.

_As empty as Yuri…_

Vacant black eyes stared up from a small face, skin already fading into the pallor of death. That was something Orihime remembered well, because she had seen it happen to her brother.

Her fingers stretched out to touch the still warm cheek, but there was no one inside. Just a dead body that used to be a girl she knew.

One more piece of guilt, one more stone to the pile.

A tear slipped down her face, running along the curve of her jaw before falling to her chest, and it was strange, because she didn't feel sad.

Her hands were shaking. The fingers that had been stroking stopped, curled back into her palm before she moved them over the jagged cut adorning a pale throat. The blood there was so dark it looked black in the poor light. Her power withdrew from Ichigo and circled beneath her hand before spreading to form a soft golden dome as the brilliant light display faded from the demon lord.

The dome shattered.

Orihime shook her head, brow furrowed as she called her powers again.

It had to work. It _always_ worked. She could heal _anything_. _That_ was her power, _that_ was what she was. If she couldn't do that… If she couldn't that _one_ thing, then_… Then what was she good for?_

The shield broke again and her hand shook as she pulled it back.

Tusan climbed to his feet, but she didn't look. Her gaze was still trained on the body in front of her, the empty vessel. And _nothing_, no tears Orihime had, no power she possessed, _nothing_ could fill it back up. Yuri wasn't coming back.

"There is nothing to heal or undo, girl. She has transcended, and even you cannot make something from nothing."

He was behind her.

Orihime turned to see his sword perched over Ichigo's neck.

The same way he had killed Yuri. The same way the hollow had stood over Ulquiorra. The closer it moved, the more she could feel that weight on her back, a weight that she hadn't created from a problem she couldn't fix. Heat pooled in her chest, burning her lungs, scorching her heart, and Orihime realized for the first time that she was angry.

All of her hurt and fear, bitterness held back to the point of breaking.

The blade shifted another inch and her will snapped shut like an iron cage.

_**No**_**.**

She hadn't said the word aloud, hadn't needed to. He heard her. Whether it was her power or his, she didn't know. Maybe he had just felt the rise in her spiritual pressure, but the newly made god turned back, very slowly, facing her.

She was defying him, but what did that matter? Her powers had always been said to defy the gods.

Orihime shut her eyes as the world finally stopped spinning out of control and she saw everything for what it really was… a series of events, a dance, a carefully, choreographed play. People called it fate, but that only meant that they felt it was unchangeable and that wasn't true at all. She could _feel_ it, feel the push and pull of destiny, and it all seemed so deliberate and simple, it was as if the earth had stopped moving.

Outside, the battle raged on. She could hear it if she stilled her breathing and the ground seemed to shake and fall away as the god came forward. Dust so small it was hardly there, swirled under his feet. A drop of blood fell from the table as he passed.

She didn't focus on any of that.

Memories darted behind her eyes; her brother disappearing behind the closing doors of an ambulance, Tatsuki shaking with rage, standing between her and the mean girls, Rangiku far away and full of secrets. The golden eyes of the hollow flashing in the moonlight.

_Ichigo_.

Even with her eyes closed, she could see him, a bright glare against the darkness behind her eyes. The only thing he had ever desired for himself was to protect what he cherished. And he had cherished many people; had been cherished by many people. It was something that both humbled and confused him, she knew, but it also gave him unimaginable strength.

And this time, this _one_ time, she would not fail. Not because she was strong and not because it was her responsibility, not even because she wanted back the life Tusan had taken. She couldn't fail, because it was for _him_.

She had come for a purpose, and she refused to let Tusan have his way.

Deep within her soul, her power flickered and stirred, it lifted its head and opened its eyes, and she could feel it slipping outside of her conscious control, riding the incendiary waves of her anger. Tusan stopped yards from where she knelt and spoke.

Orihime couldn't even hear it.

Her eyes burned, heated with the intensity of her gaze.

What he wanted, what he was now— it didn't matter. Her mind was suddenly so clear that it could no longer be clouded with her personal fears. No part of this man or god made any difference to what she could or couldn't do. The whole of what he was, of what he had ever been, was immaterial.

She hated it, hated the ruthlessness of the truth, the callousness, but even hating it, she accepted it and then there was only the cruel freedom of letting go.

Her fingers moved and it was like watching them through thick glass. They floated until she could see orange locks between outstretched fingers, and then passed. Her hand lifted until it was extended toward the god before her. Palm out, a gesture of denial. Refusal. Rejection.

And then she shattered.

Power burst forth, pushing out, unable to be denied. Her hand burst into flames of light so pure it was as if she had called the sun from the sky and trapped it under her skin. Her vision went white, but it didn't matter because there was nothing left to see.

She was everywhere. Tumbling over the earth and into the sky, like petals on the wind or waves in the ocean. Freed from her own skin, Orihime soared. She felt like she was burning a hole in the world.

There was no way to know how long it lasted, but as she came back to herself her body screamed in protest.

_Pain. _

Pain was everywhere, cutting her apart from the inside out. She might have screamed if she had had a throat, but that was gone, burned away with the rest of her and all she could do was suffer in silence.

It seemed like forever before the hands came. They were such a startling contrast to the hurting in her limbs that she wanted to cry with the relief of them. They held her, anchored her back to the world, back to herself.

She concentrated on the feel of those hands until her body came back and she had enough strength to open her eyes.

()()()

The hollow watched the girl whimper and twist, settling her weight comfortably into his arms, he listened to her breathing soften before lifting his head to look around.

As he took in the devastation, his eyes narrowed, a pleased smile curving his lips.

For completely annihilating a god, she had done so flawlessly. His princess had certainly been something to see… all defiant light and raw, untouched power. It was so fucking sexy he damn near got hard. Made him kind of glad he hadn't been on the receiving end.

There was nothing left of the man or the corpse of the girl. The table, the floor, the debris, all gone, but the walls and the ceiling… those were whole, remade even. The entire room looked as if it had been newly erected. Interesting to find out how far that particular effect had gone.

He glanced down to see her shift, blinking confused grey eyes up at him.

She was his. His prize, an unwilling accomplice in his victory over Ichigo. All that purity and shattered innocence practically begged for the touch of male corruption. This was so much better than anything he could have imagined years ago when he first began to plot his king's downfall.

He flashed his teeth, grinning. "Mine."

She stiffened, taking a deep breath, almost alarmed.

"Can you put me down, please?"

His arms tightened. "Making demands already?

"No, I—"

He released her, letting her slide down the full length of his body, grinning at the flush that tinted her cheeks as she backed away. So fucking delicious. It was too easy to get under her skin, to get her flustered and worked up. Made him want to work her up in other ways.

He beckoned her forward with one hand, and she came, slowly, feet almost dragging. Without further thought, he wound a hand into her hair and used it to force her head up. Her lips parted, her eyes still far away and dreamy, but he didn't like her hazy and unresponsive for long periods of time. He bit her lip, just hard enough that she yelped, jumping and looking startled.

When she stepped back, her eyes were once again shining and aware.

His grin returned.

()()()

Isshin moved quickly through the dim paths, face set and sword in hand. Dark power rippled through the stone walls, heavy riatsu swelling against his own. The crushing rage and sadistic undercurrent sent prickles down his spine, but knowing that it came from his own son… that chilled him to the bone. Engetsu thrummed, irritated at the aggressive spiritual contact.

Then, as unexpectedly as it had flared, it was gone.

He understood the warning, the obvious show of temper and challenge. Still, he moved forward, eyes fixed on the path in front of him, focusing on the lesser, unobtrusive pressure that was difficult to pick out around the other, but it was there and the feel of it was worrisome. He needed to get to her, to make sure she was alright or else Ichigo would never forgive himself.

He had left the Matsumoto woman a ways back after she told him that both Ichigo and Orihime had passed through. She had been sitting alone on the floor when he entered and the fading spiritual pressure of Ichimaru told him what he needed to know. The soul tied to the demon lord had been released from its contract, no longer having any hold in the physical world. It would be some time before the vice-captain would be able to leave that place if the expression of her face was anything to go by, so there was no worry about her coming to harm from the creature residing in Ichigo.

Kisuke had been right and Ichimaru had indeed been freed from his oath upon Tusan's death. He had, however, been wrong in thinking Ichigo's hollow would be the one to slay the god. The entire strategy had been nothing but pointless guesswork. Completely meaningless, because Inoue, not Ichigo, had been the one to end things. How they had missed that—

It happened suddenly, without warning.

The path ended and he crossed into a new room, only to be slammed into a wall, pushed back by nothing but pure, undiluted spiritual power. The pain and unanticipated blow stunned him, held him captive just long enough for another strike.

He cursed as he moved, pulling his mind away from the fact that it was Ichigo attacking, as a low, feral growl resounded off the room's surviving walls. It occurred to Isshin for the first time that he had never faced the hollow completely free of his son's influence. Ichigo had always been there somewhere, even if it was only in the background. Thinking that he would hold back was a mistake. That clearly wasn't the case this time.

He didn't have time to be annoyed with himself for such an amateur slip-up, ridiculous as it was for an experienced fighter, because the sudden appearance of the hollow distracted him.

Isshin swallowed hard, mentally wrestling the overwhelmingly murderous pressure that seemed to be pressing in on him from all sides. He had known that the spirit inside his son was strong, but to think that he had been fighting _this_ level of hollow, alone_.._. They were fools. All of them were fools for not stepping in sooner. _Ichigo_ was a fool for not saying anything.

It stepped forward, out of the shadows cast by the far wall and Isshin almost wished he hadn't.

The hollow was truly pissed off by the intrusion, eyes sparkling with a menace that he had never seen on his son's face and he knew the image wouldn't fade anytime soon. Zangetsu dangled carelessly from one hand, its tip dragging the ground, causing a discordant screech. Isshin could feel the blade's shriek all the way to his bones.

The hollow smiled, looking for all the world like he was having a pleasant chance meeting on a Sunday afternoon instead of preparing to kill his own father in an empty, stone chamber.

Isshin tried to analyze cold, golden eyes, but they were impenetrable. "Son."

"She's not going anywhere with you." The words were lazy, seemingly calm, but there was no doubt of the venom that laced them. "In fact, you're not going anywhere with you."

The threat was unmistakable.

"I only want to talk to her. Ichigo, I need—"

Zangetsu buried itself in the rock where his head had been an instant before.

He dodged and drew up a few feet away as the hollow brought the sword back, easily catching it by the tang. Something dark flashed in his cold, yellow eyes. Isshin tried to find any trace of recognition or mercy in them, but it was far past that point already. It was simply playing with him, fooling with its prey before tearing it to pieces.

It's grip shifted on Zangetsu.

"Wait."

Both of them turned toward the sound of the voice. Isshin breathed a relieved sigh, glad she was alright and that even in this state Ichigo hadn't hurt her. The tightness in his chest eased somewhat.

Orihime glanced at him, a quick and assessing look, and the hollow snarled, moving to block her path and Isshin's line of sight. She didn't appear frightened, and he didn't know whether to be impressed or rip his hair out in frustration. What had these two gotten themselves into, and why hadn't Kisuke seen fit to inform him of the severity of the situation?

She was speaking softly, only for the hollow and although his head was cocked toward her, his eyes never left Isshin. Its frown deepened as she talked.

At last, she spoke loud enough for him to hear. Her voice was soft, but steady, soothing. "He'll leave. Everyone will. No one will bother us."

It was a message. To him. She had chosen to stay, for whatever reason, and was informing him of that decision. Of course, leaving, really leaving, was out of the question. But so was a confrontation without one of them getting seriously injured, possibly injuring _her_. So, he held on to centuries of training and self-control, and waited to see what the hollow would do.

It looked at her, studying before tilting his head to the side in concentration. When it turned back, Isshin found no emotion lurking in his gaze and certainly none of the patience it had displayed for Orihime.

"The queen commands." He took a step forward, smile once again gracing his features. It was vicious, crinkling the skin on his nose as he clearly fought to restrain his killing instinct. He brought Zangetsu up, resting the blunt edge over his shoulder. One quick swing was all it would take for the hollow to change his mind, but the blade remained where it rested. "Leave."

For an excruciatingly prolonged second, nothing happened. Isshin wondered how long it would take for the hollow's will to snap as he considered his options. There weren't many. He sheathed Engetsu.

"I'll be sure to pass that along."

His hands twitched as he moved to leave, taking far more resolve than he would have liked just to turn his back and walk away.

()()()

A/N

**Poor Hime, she's trapped all alone with the hollow… And I'm betting that ninety percent of you wish you were her :)**

**Feel free to do that thing you all do so well, and leave a review. Yay!**


	24. Chapter 24

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

()()()

**Authorial Notice:**

**This chapter really did not turn out as long as I was expecting. Although, quite a bit happens :) **

_**And**_**… I have a fanfic rec for you guys. Hell Butterfly by the beautiful and talented Alliriyan who causes me to FG squee at the sheer IchiHime-ness of her universe. Plus, hollow! Can you ever go wrong with that?**

()()()

Chapter Twenty-Four

"I told Ichigo I wouldn't share."

He glanced at Orihime over his shoulder, watching as she jerked back, recoiling from his words, but that was to be expected.

He could see the wheels in her head turning. All the ways she was whittling down the situation to make sure there was no one else to shoulder the blame. It should have been amusing, instead it annoyed him. He alone had orchestrated his king's downfall, and as entraining as it was to watch guilt and self-recrimination flash over the surface of her eyes, it chipped away at his sense of accomplishment.

She turned away and his gaze narrowed. Not exactly his idea of a victory party.

"What did you do with him?"

"I killed him."

Orihime spun. "Y-You're lying."

"Am I?" He could feel the chill of his own smile curving his lips as he closed the distance. "Close enough. He can't even fight me anymore." The smile disappeared as fast as it came and he crushed the soft fabric of her shirt between his fingers, tugging her forward until she was falling gracelessly against him. "Turned out to be such a fucking disappointment."

She frowned up and stubbornly held her ground. "No, he's not. Kurosaki-kun is strong and brave."

Without meaning to, she had struck at his pride and hit dead center.

The beginnings of irritation chewed its way through his stomach, curling into his chest at her continued defense of his once king. Jealousy and possessiveness warring, anger flashed into life like a struck match. But instead of showing such a ridiculous weakness, he scoffed.

"When he wants to be, that's practically never."

She wasn't recognizing him, wasn't acknowledging that he had _won_. Her thoughts should have been on him, not the bastard that was mangled and fading away inside him. He had proven himself. Now he was having second thoughts and that just pissed him right the hell off.

Things with Ichigo had ended too soon, he hadn't made him suffer enough.

When she opened her mouth, he cut her off before she could even take a breath to speak. He kissed her, hard, conquering her on the only battleground that wouldn't leave permanent scars. She wasn't supposed be resisting. His very nature dictated that she recognize him as the dominant male. He had won. He was stronger than Ichigo, why didn't she _get it_?

The hollow didn't release her until she stopped wrestling, didn't let her have air until her mouth was pliant and unresisting under his. When he pulled back, they were both fighting to breathe.

Orihime watched him with wary eyes, not sure what she had been thinking to say something like that at a time like this. It had just seemed terribly important to not let Ichigo be tarnished that way. But it was silly, a pointless argument to be having with his other half. After all, who had ever been better at hating Ichigo than himself?

"Doesn't matter, you'll learn."

She blinked coming back to herself and frowning at his cryptic comment, trying to piece it back into their earlier conversation without success. What was she supposed to learn? That he hated Ichigo and wanted her to as well? She shook her head. Asking would be a mistake she didn't need to make, because she was certain he would answer or worse, show her exactly what he meant and there wasn't time for that.

Orihime could feel Ichigo's riatsu collapsing under the darker, oppressive weight of the hollow's. As if he were sinking under the surface of the ocean, never to be found again. She needed to get to him, but the hollow's erratic behavior made her hesitate.

There was something wrong with him. He had never treated her coldly before. He had picked on her, victimized her, poked at her until she wanted to scream in frustration, but he had never turned his back on her like he was now.

She watched him glare at an outcropping of stone, looking sullen and angry, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she could feel Ichigo slipping further.

Orihime _knew_ what she had to do, _had_ known since last night, but now she was hesitating.

For just a second, she saw Ichigo and the hollow reversed as if she were looking at both of them at once, and everything clicked into place. Did he need approval so badly? Was that even something a hollow was capable of wanting?

His shoulders were both slouching and tense; a posture she had seen a thousand times on his other half and she knew without a doubt that she wasn't wrong. There wasn't time for this. Ichigo was almost beyond feeling. Yet, she knew, _knew_ she couldn't save one without saving the other.

He didn't move as she edged up behind him, barely turned when her fingers latched onto the black silk of his sleeve. When she stepped around him, she was struck by how pale his hair looked. She had thought so once before, but hadn't been in a position to really take notice. There wasn't any denying it now, his hair had faded to a light orange and it was getting lighter even as she watched. Realization skittered around the edges of her conscious, darting in and out of the shadows in the secret places of her mind.

No more time.

Orihime reached up, brushed fingertips over his cheek. He stiffened, but made no move to resist as she perched on tiptoes and slipped her hand around to pull his head down.

His skin was cool to touch, the warmth leaving his body as her lips brushed over his. He didn't try to take control, didn't do anything but let his hands find her hips, digging into soft flesh as she kissed him. There was something flowing between them, something as delicate and fragile as ice cracking under her toes. She hadn't expected that. Sparks danced across her lips and down her chest to pluck at the strings of her heart.

She was the one to beg entrance into his mouth, licking his bottom lip as a whimper escaped her. Then everything fragile shattered, he seemed to forget that he was letting her have control. There was desperate intensity in his movements, a need she couldn't name. His arms tightened and he pulled her body tight against his, and she slipped, losing herself for a moment, but she couldn't feel Ichigo anymore. She was cutting it too close.

Her hand slid into her pocket as his traced up the curve of her spine. Flicking the cap off quietly, she moved.

He jerked back and a hand fastened around her wrist, pulling her arm from around his back. Orihime tried to wiggle free, wanted to do something to rid herself of the evidence, but his grip was unbreakable.

His eyes fell to her hand and the small empty syringe curled inside her fingers.

Orihime flinched, preparing for a blow that never came. He blinked, then blinked at her, the look in his gaze indiscernible, but something she saw there pinned her under her own guilt.

The tension of waiting for condemnation was unbearable, twice she opened her mouth, but twice no sound came out. So she stood, shaking with distress and remorse, waiting for his anger or rage or anything but that terrible _silence_.

It never came.

When he let go of her wrist, she was so shocked that her fingers released automatically, dropping the condemning glass and metal vial to the ground with a clear ping as hot tears found their way down her face. Orihime couldn't look up, couldn't stand to see the way he was looking at her.

His arm moved, fingers curving around her cheek, thumb wiping wetness away and for a moment, the world stood frozen.

Then he hissed, clutching his head and falling back with an agonized scream.

()()()

Ichigo panted, fighting to draw in air and blinking at the empty syringe lying next to him as the pain of being forced to switch places with his hollow began to fade. He was alive. No longer crushed into that too small space inside his own soul. Even the dim light of this place was welcome now and Ichigo was fairly certain he would never complain about being uncomfortable ever again.

He looked up to see Orihime's stunned gaze still trained on the glass beside him.

"What _was_ that?"

She started, looking away as a single tear continued on its path. "Hollow essence."

"Hollow essence?"

Orihime nodded and he frowned. What the hell? Where had she gotten something like that? But of course, there was only one answer to that question.

She didn't look back or meet his eyes and something like a tremor shivered down his spine, slipping into his skin and out again. He closed his eyes, finally getting it. "That was what Urahara wanted."

Another nod and another tear.

"What…" He swallowed. "What did it do to him? My hollow?"

"Urahara said it was like medicine."

Ichigo shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness that was making it hard to concentrate.

"A vaccination, actually." Ichigo turned to see Kisuke arrive through the door-less arched entry. "It's not unlike how cow pox was used to teach the body to fight small pox. I just… _tweaked_ it a bit, for your hollow."

From the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw Orihime stepping back, slipping around the room and through the entrance, making a silent departure. Her shoulders shook and even though he couldn't hear it, he knew she was crying. He fixed Urahara with a hard look before speaking.

"You made Orihime do it." It was supposed to be a question, but it came out as an accusation.

To his credit, Urahara actually seemed surprised. "Not at all."

"Then why…"

"There was no way to know what form we were going to be dealing with. It should go without saying that it could have easily been a complete transformation. She was the only one that could dependably get close enough."

Sometime while Urahara was talking, he had found his feet, hands curling into fists. "That's not good enough. I could have killed her."

"Kurosaki-san, I don't believe you understand the situation." The dim light shadowed his eyes behind his hat. "If you had transformed fully, I don't doubt that all of us together wouldn't have been enough to keep you away from her."

It wasn't unlike being kicked in the gut. Ichigo opened his mouth, but Kisuke held up a hand.

"It was consuming your heart. It was much stronger than you have previously experienced and had it gotten any further, it would have been a completed evolution." When Ichigo's only response was a blank look, he clarified. "You would have become permanently hollowfied. More than that, because of your human heart, it's learned to remove its mask. You would have become an arrancar.

"A perfected arrancar. Something Aizen couldn't create even with the hogyoku. It would have been irreversible. My suggestion, was that Inoue-san should remain behind. I was afraid her presence would exacerbate the hollow. She refused."

"How long?" He turned back to the gleaming needle tipped syringe that was still lying beside him. Suddenly, it seemed much less ominous and a lot more friendly. "How long have you all known about him?"

"Since you left to rescue Rukia from Soul Society."

Shock raised his head, mouth falling open.

"I apologize for keeping you in the dark, Kurosaki-san, but to tell _you_ would have been telling your other half as well. You couldn't know."

Ichigo nodded, barely feeling his body make the motion. They had been aware all along. Kisuke, Yoruichi, and he assumed, his father. All that running around he and Inoue had done to keep his secret. All for nothing… All that _anxiety_…

Anger flooded his gut, his mind spinning into a foggy red haze. All the fear, confusion, resentment, every emotion he had carefully held back came bursting in all at once.

As Urahara straightened from retrieving the dropped vial, Ichigo punched him straight in the nose. The older man stumbled, hat toppling backwards off his head as he landed on his back.

"Oww."

Ichigo stomped over to him, glaring and pointing an accusing finger. "That's what you get! Bastard, I didn't need such a long explanation."

Urahara sat up, blinking at Ichigo's retreating figure. "Where are you going?"

"Where the hell do you think? I'm going to find that goat-faced bastard and make him pay."

()()()

Orihime wandered the forest floor, looking for a quiet place to be alone. Calls of congratulations and praise seemed to follow her anyway. At least from the people that weren't looking at her like she was some new and frightening species. Their sounds traveled through the trees until she was so far they couldn't reach her anymore. She had always been terrible at accepting compliments, but this time it was almost agonizing and the fear was worse. What had she done to deserve it? She wasn't anyone but who she had always been, only now she was a backstabber and a liar.

The air was heavy and sticky, hot and moist, and her hair clung to her forehead and neck in uncomfortable ways, but she couldn't be bothered to brush it away. Unohana and Isshin had both insisted on checking her condition, physical and spiritual, although she had no idea what they thought they would find.

Lowering to a bent tree bow, far from prying eyes, Orihime let her head fall into her hands and cried. She was apparently in top condition, they couldn't even find a scratch… So why did everything hurt so much? Why couldn't she stop seeing a fractured golden gaze behind her closed eyes?

A twig snapped and she looked up to find Ichigo, hands stuffed into his pockets. He looked uncertain and had that same deep scowl, the one he wore when he found the world to be particularly displeasing. Although, she thought, surreptitiously swiping at tears with the back of her hand, he appeared slightly more discontent than usual.

_He probably can't stand the sight of you…_

She winced from the thought, turning away. This was it. He was going to tell her that they couldn't be together anymore. That she had betrayed his trust by going behind his back and plotting—

"I'm sorry."

The words weren't hers, but they should have been. She stared at him, wondering if what she had heard was only the byproduct of an over-stressed brain.

"Seems like that's all I'm saying to you lately."

"What?" Her mind continued to chase its tail in the cobwebby parts of her head.

He lowered beside her and she was tempted to stretch out an arm to make sure he was actually there, actually saying these things, because maybe he wasn't. _Ah ha, ha, good one brain… You really got me this time!_

Ichigo scowled at the small finger poking into his ribs, trying not to twist away or yelp in an unmanly fashion when she found yet another elusive ticklish spot.

"Orihime?"

She ripped her gaze from her finger to look up at him with perplexed grey eyes. "Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking." She lapsed back into silence, folding her hands into her lap, pulling at her sleeves. Her face was tight, an uncharacteristic frown marring otherwise flawless features. Suddenly, she stood, straightening her shoulders before turning to smile at him. "I think… I'm ready now."

Something in her smile twisted him up into impossible knots and he wasn't certain he could undo himself in time to respond. Whatever he had expected her to say, that hadn't been it. He struggled to catch up, sounding stupid even to his own ears.

"Ready?"

She nodded and the air seemed to condense and shiver as it became too heavy for the sky to hold. It fell, small drops at first then it grew, filling the night between them. "That's right."

He was on the verge of opening his mouth to ask her what, exactly _it_ was that she was ready for, but she didn't give him the chance. She turned and passed through the trees, disappearing into the rain before he could gather his thoughts enough to wrench himself up and dash after her.

_I'm ready now…_

Ichigo felt something slide, something sharp and painful, shifting, stabbing jagged edges into his gut. He replayed those words over and over, liking their sound less and less. They had been calm, collected. Just seconds earlier, he could hear the bittersweet quiver of trepidation, but that was totally gone when she pulled away.

It bothered him.

He caught up with her, falling in step as his clothes drenched through. "What is it that you're ready for?"

Orihime stopped so suddenly that he had to dig his feet in to keep from running over her. Then, she turned, her brave smile still in place. "I'm ready for you to hate me."

He gaped at her, because really, there wasn't anything else to do. Ichigo spun, looking to the trees for help before focusing back on her face when he realized none was forthcoming.

"Okay…" He checked the tree line again. "Why?"

She clasped her hands in front of her, trying to look serene and composed even though she was so wet her hair clung and her clothing had become semi-transparent. It almost distracted him from her response.

Her smile slipped a bit. "B-because…"

"Oh." He frowned. "You do realize that makes absolutely _no_ sense."

"I went behind your back."

"Okay"

She flustered, apparently indignant that he couldn't see what a terrible person she was. "I lied!"

"Orihime…"

"I stuck you with a needle and I hurt you and—"

"Orihime, I was being eaten alive. Trust me, it didn't hurt more than that. I think I can forgive you."

She clenched small fists and frowned, her face flushing. Ichigo couldn't actually recall ever seeing her angry. She puffed up like an angry kitten or like an angry kitten _would_ if it wasn't soaked to the bone. It was cute… sort of, but mostly in a way that made him not want to see it again.

Orihime poked him in the chest, still pouting. "You're supposed to be angry."

"I don't feel like it."

"Oh." She blinked before dropping her hand, noticing a little belatedly that he had gotten a lot closer. She licked her lips, watching his eyes follow the movement. "What do you feel like?"

His mouth grazed hers as he bent to capture her lips.

"Oi, Ichigo! Where the hell are you?"

He pulled back, irritation coloring his tone. "Seriously?"

Rukia stomped through the underbrush, shoving branches out of her way and cursing them as she went. "There you are. We're leaving." She glanced around him. "Hey, Inoue. Way to kick ass. That was impressive the way you poofed that guy."

Orihime blinked. "Poofed?"

"Go away, Rukia."

She shot Ichigo an unimpressed look before turning with a haughty sniff and making her way back through the forest. He sighed, glancing at Orihime before following, pulling her still preoccupied figure behind him. When they got back, the first thing he was doing would be to find a nice quiet place to hole up. One that wasn't within fifty miles of anyone from Soul Society.

As they entered the main clearing, they passed mounds and piles of the gathered dead yokai. Nemu cataloged various corpses, aided by a green looking Uryu and several members of the fourth division. Ichigo snorted. Orihime turned away from the sight and he jumped when she squeaked.

"Oh! What happened to Isshin-san?"

Ichigo stopped her flight to his injured father, pulling her closer as they stepped around him to where several people stood waiting.

"Nothing he didn't deserve." His look dared his father to say otherwise.

"I should heal him…"

Kisuke winced.

"Actually, Inoue-san, there's a small chance that you won't be able to use your powers for a few days, nothing as severe as the last time, though!" He waved a dismissive hand.

Ichigo glared. Urahara finagled.

_"Ha ha. Time to get those gates open or we might all be stuck here forever!"_

()()()

**A/N**

**Urahara, you liar. God, I love him. **

**On a completely different side note, does anyone else ever wonder what Ichigo does with all that repressed sexual tension? I mean, he's seventeen, right? Where does it all go?**

**Well, we're almost there. Just one more chapter. I'm so excited! **


	25. Chapter 25 Epilogue

Title: Tainting the Roses Red

**Authorial Notice:**

**I must start by saying how sorry I am this took so long to update. Really, you have my sincerest apologies! It just wasn't happening for me and even now, I feel it is sub-par. Ack. I die.**

**Surprising news, we've been translated. Yes, I kid you not. There is now a link on my profile where you can enjoy this story in Chinese, courtesy of Yikouguan. There is also a link to my DA account that I promised about six months ago. **

**And in the spirit of the world not having enough HichiHime, I have a new one-shot out called If Dreams Die. Way different than my usual H/H. Feel free to let me know what you think :)**

**Lastly, I will be making a few major edits to this story in the future. Like condensing the first five chapters and most likely, rewriting them. I'm also thinking about renaming, because I want a title that fits the story and isn't so random. If anyone has any suggestions on this, I am very open to them. **

()()()

Chapter Twenty-five

"Are you sure that's everything Rangiku-san?"

"Looks like."

"Matsumoto…"

Rangiku huffed, tossing an exasperated look at her captain, even though she couldn't technically see him through the wall. But, Orihime supposed, things like physics and the natural laws of the universe had never really done much to deterred the stubborn vice-captain before.

"I have to make sure I'm not leaving anything."

The irritated sigh that came from the living room contained all the long-suffering patience of a martyred saint. "Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult, if you didn't do so much shopping."

Orihime smiled, dropping down to check under the bed one last time. It would definitely be a lot less interesting in her apartment after they left.

"I don't see anything else, Rangiku."

She looked up to see Rangiku pursing her lips at the wall before dropping a hip down onto her suitcase. The seams stretched dangerously as the lock finally snapped closed. Orihime eyed it warily.

"Easy for him to say. Did you know he only owns three sets of clothes?"

Orihime blinked. "W-what, really?"

"His uniform, a formal kimono, and his human clothes."

"But… But then, what does he sleep in?"

Rangiku grinned and Orihime's eyes went wide. She waved her hands, trying to stop the words before they could actually spill out of the older woman's mouth. "Nevermind! Please don't answer that!"

Face heating, Orihime watched Rangiku shrug before hefting her case off the bed, taking a final look around the room.

"It's going to get sore if you keep rubbing it like that."

"Eh…? What?"

Orihime started, glancing to the hand perched at her neck that had been absently running over the faintly raised mark just on the other side of her shoulder. She hadn't even noticed she was doing it. Frowning at her fingers for betraying her thoughts, Orihime let her hand drop back into her lap.

It had been almost a week since they had returned from their battle against the yokai, and her powers still hadn't stabilized enough that she could use them properly. Something which had bothered Ichigo enough that he had managed to find any and every excuse to checkup on her over the last several days. Not that she was complaining. Orihime hadn't ever really needed an excuse to want to see him, so she had decided not to mind his little bouts of overprotectiveness.

A smile flitted over her lips.

She definitely didn't mind the goodbye kisses. Sometimes she wondered if he only came so that he could leave again.

Orihime shook her head, so lost in thought that she hadn't responded. Rangiku was watching her with half-lidded, laughing eyes and Orihime felt a splash of guilt. It didn't seem fair that she was the only one who had gotten her happy ending.

"Will you be alright?"

Orihime hadn't intended to ask or bring up sore memories, but as soon as she had thought it, the question was already slipping past her lips. Once it had, she found that she really was curious. After all, if things had gone differently, even a little bit, Orihime could have easily been in the older woman's place. Forever waiting and hoping to find her lost love again. It was a terrible thought, but part of her wondered if she would have handled herself half as well. Somehow, she didn't think she would have.

The moment stretched.

"I think so." Orihime couldn't see all of Rangiku's face, but the hand holding the suitcase tightened. "Gin and I… It's just what we are— _were_. Turns out, nothing ever changed. He never changed."

A smile curved her lips, one that told Orihime she was lost in her own memories. Then, at last she spoke again, soft enough that Orihime had to strain.

"But if he had, he wouldn't have been Gin. When you really love someone, you don't need them to change. Even when it hurts. What about you?"

"Huh?"

Rangiku gestured and Orihime flushed, realizing her hand had once again crept up to her scar during the fit of guilt the other woman's words had inspired. Rangiku was so strong. She made things sound so simple that it always left Orihime feeling foolish and slow.

She swallowed. "I'm really such a terrible person sometimes."

"Ori—"

"No, I am. You're right, if you love someone it should be for who they are, but I haven't done that at all. I didn't… Instead of trying to talk to—" Orihime hesitated, wondering how much she could reveal about Ichigo's hollow. He had said it was dangerous for people to know, and she really didn't want to get anyone in trouble, least of all him.

She took a deep breath and tried again.

"I do love Ichigo, but I was trying to pick and choose which parts to love, and…"

Rangiku tilted her head, patiently waiting for Orihime to finish her thought.

"I think I made a mistake. And that maybe there are parts of him that can't forgive me."

While she had been speaking, Orihime pulled her knees into her chest, hugging her legs.

Rangiku sighed. "You should tell him that. Orihime, that boy is crazy about you. He's too stubborn to stop loving you just because you made a mistake. Just tell him…"

Orihime nodded, still keeping her gaze trained on the floor.

"Now, let's see what you're wearing on this date of yours."

()()()

Orihime closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief or lonesomeness, she wasn't sure. She turned back to her room as the refrigerator kicked on, filling the silence of her small space with the electric hum.

Walking through the door, she made her way to the clothes Rangiku had picked out. She stared at them for a full minute before scooping them off her bed and into the hamper. Those things weren't her, she didn't want to play dress up anymore to get Ichigo's attention. Besides, she had a feeling he would like anything she wore.

Emerging from her closet in a simple blue dress, Orihime paused seeing the window by her bed open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze.

She didn't remember opening it.

Orihime stretched out her senses before remembering it was useless. She couldn't feel anything but vague impressions. It was disconcerting to feel so blind walking across her own room.

She reached the window and raised her arms to close it, glancing over her shoulder just to make sure she was still alone.

"That's dangerous, you know."

Orihime yelped, stumbling back from the feminine voice that sounded only somewhat familiar.

"Who's there?"

"Out here."

Ducking under the frame, Orihime gasped as she spied the branches of the tree that ran parallel to her window— or more accurately, who was in the branches.

"Y-yuri?"

"Took you long enough."

She blinked. "But… I thought you were…"

Swallowing back tears, Orihime could only laugh in response as the girl who had been her tutor smiled.

"Yeah, well, you do good work." She smiled again and Orihime couldn't ever remember seeing her look so at ease. "I wanted to tell you then, but it didn't seem like a good idea with all those soul types running around." Yuri scratched her head. "Anyway, I wanted to say thanks. You went through a lot to help me and I couldn't leave without saying that."

"You're going home?"

"That's right. By the way, I got you something."

Springing closer to the window, she reached out handing Orihime a familiar pink covered book.

"Oh, I have this one."

Yuri grinned. "This one's signed."

Orihime glanced down at the book, flipping open the cover to see kanji scratched in black ink.

_Thanks for everything. I won't forget you. Yuri Kimiho…_

For the first time, she realized she had never checked to see who the author was. She gaped at the book before turning back. "You wrote—?"

The tree outside her window was empty. Yuri was gone.

Orihime stood there staring until a knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts. She sat the book on her desk before closing the window, hurrying to answer the door.

Ichigo knocked again, wondering what was taking Orihime so long to answer when there was a clattering sound, signaling the locks on the other side were being flipped and twisted. At least she was locking it, though.

Shaking his head, he straightened as the door finally opened, revealing Orihime's shining face and bright smile. His eyes seemed to fall on their own, slipping down her body and over gentle curves before he could force himself to drag them back up where they belonged.

He cleared his throat.

"Ready?"

"Ah! Yes, I just need to get my shoes…"

Curious, Ichigo tilted to watch her through the cracked door, shaking his head again as she stumbled over her own feet on the way to her closet.

After everything it had taken to get all those soul reapers out of the house, he was almost happy to have nothing better to worry about than his girlfriend's clumsy antics.

And that dress really did suit her.

**Certainly does…**

Ichigo's shoulders slumped, scowl slipping negligently back into place. _No one asked you._

His frown deepened at the sarcastic laughter that echoed around his skull before retreating back into the recesses of his mind.

"Is everything alright?"

"Huh?" Ichigo blinked down to find Orihime standing in front of him, looking at him with thoughtful grey eyes. Smiling, he gave her a firm nod, taking her hand in his before reminding her to lock the door.

He pulled her behind him down the stairs, thinking about how surreal it seemed to be dating one of his closest friends. Not just anyone, but Orihime. A soul so innocent, so _pure,_ that he couldn't have possibly done anything to deserve her. It was a strange and pleasant feeling to know that all he had to do to touch her was just to stretch out a hand, and more, that she actually wanted to touch him, to _be_ touched by him.

When did that even happen? At what point had it become second nature to have her there beside him? After rescuing Rukia? Before that?

Of course, she had always _been there_, had always stayed close to his side, but now it was on a whole different level. And he wasn't sure how they had fit together so easily. He didn't know when he had started wanting it, but he did, _desperately_. Like he wanted air. It was as if there hadn't ever been any other path for him. As if it had been mapped out in the stars, eons ago, and they were just playing into the hands of fate.

Ichigo frowned, realizing that he was still pulling her and slowed his stride, letting Orihime catch up and walk beside him. He muttered an apology, feeling thoughtless for dragging her behind him. "You can tell me to slow down, you know."

"But you were thinking so hard..." He glanced back when she hesitated. "Ichigo-kun, about what happened—"

"Orihime, you don't have to keep apologizing."

She stopped and he turned, furrowing his brow as she heaved back on his arm.

"But… I only apologized to you, Kurosaki-kun. I-I think I need to apologize to…" She swallowed, apparently wrestling with her courage. "I think I should apologize to hollow you."

It came out in such a rush that it took his deficient brain a few seconds to process her request. "You're kidding, right?"

She shook her head, loose curls falling over her shoulders in a way that was almost hypnotic.

"We share a soul, you don't have—"

"But that's _why_ I want to. He's part of you and I want to love all of you."

Ichigo was going to tell her that it wasn't something he needed, that he really would be fine if she didn't like his hollow- he sure as hell didn't- but the problem was, he wasn't certain he could speak around the lump forming in his throat.

He turned, looking out over the bridge that divided the river. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat, looking back at her where she waited patiently.

"Just to be clear, you know there's no way I'm going to let him out in the middle of a park." He almost groaned when Orihime looked surprised. She was going to kill him with all that misplaced trust of hers. "Look, just say it. He'll hear you, I promise."

"Oh, okay..."

Ichigo shifted while he waited, feeling absolutely ridiculous, but he had known as soon as she gave him _that_ look, he wouldn't say no. Still, he jumped when she made a deep bow.

"W-what are you doing…? Stop that! It's not necessary, he knows, he knows!"

"But, Ichigo-kun…"

Her words dissolved as he physically adjusted her posture before taking her hand again and starting another brisk walk, and Orihime wondered if she had imagined the red tint coloring the top of his ears.

That hadn't exactly been the apology she had wanted to give, but she supposed it would have to do until she had the chance to give it in person. She could wait. After all, she thought, squeezing his hand tighter, she was already a waiting expert.

Ichigo turned over his shoulder to look at her, eyes questioning, but she only smiled back. His answering half-smirk sent a fissure of sparks through her belly, making her shiver. He really did have such a nice smile…

"You love me, huh?"

She blinked, startled, before her cheeks flushed at the heat in his eyes. "Y-yes."

Orihime watched, mesmerized as his smile only grew bigger.

"Good, then maybe you can stop trying to seduce me with that damn book."

She stumbled, fighting not to fall over from shock. He knew?

Ichigo used her hand to tug her closer, dropping his head to whisper in her ear. "Just remember, Orihime, payback's a bitch."

She yelped when his teeth nipped the sensitive skin, effectively jumpstarting every nerve ending in her body. "H-how long have you known?"

"Since Rukia let it slip back when you stayed with us."

"Ah…! That long?"

Ichigo's smile only widened in response. He looked incredibly pleased with himself.

"So embarrassing…"

"Orihime!"

"Hmm?" Orihime stopped, looking around for the owner of that voice before spotting a head of familiar short spikes. "Tatsuki…? Tatsuki! "

She squealed as she was enveloped in the arms of her best friend, seeing Ichigo stiffen out of the corner of her eye.

"It's good to see you. You look great!"

Orihime beamed at her friend's compliment. "When did you get back? You should have called so that we could meet you at the train."

"I wanted… to surprise you…" Tatsuki trailed off, finally noticing the intertwined hands of her two closest friends.

Her eyes narrowed, looking from their joined hands to Orihime's glowing complexion and finally up to where Ichigo stood, slightly behind Orihime's smaller form.

Her mouth fell open, then she snapped it shut, shaking her head. At last, a small, sugary smile curved her lips. "Ichigo…?"

"Hmm?" Orihime glanced up to see Ichigo appearing uncertain at the falsely sweet tone of Tatsuki's voice.

"Y-yeah?"

Orihime squeaked as Tatsuki made a dive for her boyfriend, latching on to his collar with both hands.

"What the hell, Tatsuki?"

"I thought I told you not to touch her!"

"You said not to hurt her!"

Crawling out from under the pile of wildly flailing limbs, Orihime fluttered her hands as Tatsuki landed harsh blow to Ichigo's jaw.

"I know exactly what you did to her, you bastard!"

"O-oh! Tatsuki, it okay, really…. Tatsuki! Tatsuki, I don't think he can breathe!"

.

.

.

* * *

_Fin._

* * *

Yay! At last, this is finished and only a little over a year later. My first completed fic!

Thank you so much to everyone that's followed along with this story. You've been so, so awesome as I muddled through this, trying to figure out what I was doing. Really, it means a lot!

Now, I only have one last request. If there was one particular moment you enjoyed in this fic, could you let me know what it was and maybe what you liked about it. That would really help me to continue improving my writing, and I would much appreciate it!

Thank you!


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